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THE 

DIVINA   COMMEDIA 

OF 

DANTE  ALIGHIERI: 

CONSISTING  OF  THE 

INFERNO— PURGATORIO— AND  PARADISO. 


TRANSLATED  INTO  ENGLISH  VERSE, 
WITH  PRELIMINARY  ESSAYS,  NOTES,  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS, 

By  the  Rev.  HENRY  BOYD,  A.M. 

CHAPLAIN   TO  THE 
RIGHT    HONOURABLE  THE   LORD  VISCOUNT  CHARLEVILLE. 


?N    THREE    VOLUMES. 

VOL.    I. 


LONDON: 

Printed  by  A.  Strahan,  New-Street  Square ; 

FOR  T.  CADELL  JUN.  AND  W.  DAVIES,   IN  THE  STRAND. 

1802. 


45/5 

1 1 


9554  34 


%■■» 


To 
THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE 

CHARLES  WILLIAM 
LORD  VISCOUNT  CHARLEVILLE, 

ONE  OF  THE  LORDS  OF  THE  IMPERIAL  PARLIAMENT 
FOR  THE  UNITED  KINGDOM. 

MY    LORD, 

l^EW  Dedicators  fet  out  with  a  profeffioii) 
that  they  intend  to  addrefs  their  Patrons  at 
their  own  expence^  although  this  may  fome- 
times  be  really  the  cafe.  This,  however,  is 
literally  true  with  refpe(^t  to  me.  Before  the 
late  Rebellion,  I  was  happy  in  your  Lord- 
fliip's  protedlion  and  fociety.  Yet,  though 
iinder  many  obligations,  the  remembrance  of 
which  is  indelible ;  though  my  fituation  was 
endeared  to  me  by  a  coincidence  of  tafte  in 
our  literary  purfuits,  I  fuffered  the  terrors  of 
inen  to  drive  me  from  my  poll,  when  with  you 
I  might  be  now  contemplating  the  works 
of  God  in  the  wonders  of  Chemiflry ;  the 
deep  impreffion  of  which  on  your  Lordfliip's 
mind,  you  have  often  expreffed  in  converla- 
tion  with  me.  My  removal  was  contrary  to 
your  Lordfliip's  opinion,  contrary  to  my  own 
inclination,  when  I  left  your  neighbourhood. 

Relida,  non  bene,  parmula. 

Yet 


C     iv     ] 

Yet  your  friend fliip  and  generofity  purfued 
me  to  the  AVilds  of  Mourne.  If  I  chofe  to 
make  the  contrail  dill  greater,  I  could  expa- 
tiate on  your  Lordfliip's  intrepidity  when 
you  left  the  Afyluni  of  the  Metropolis,  and, 
with  a  few  attendants,  made  your  way  through 
a  country  fwarming  with  Foes  (whofe  objedi 
was  not  conqucll  only,  but  extermination), 
to  a  rcuiote  angle  of  the  Province,  Itill  more 
expofed  to  the  tempeft  that  raged  on  either 
fide.  It  will  be  long  remembered  with  grati- 
tude in  the  King's  County,  how  much  your 
influence  and  exertions  contributed  to  keep 
the  flames  of  war  at  a  diflance;  and  from 
what  remote  and  diiferent  parts  of  the  country 
intelligence  came  to  \'ou,  when  your  little  gar- 
rifon  was  threatened  with  a  nocturnal  afl'ault ; 
a  circumitance  that  ftrongly  denoted  the  for- 
midable nature  of  the  confpiracy,  and  the 
extent  of  that  intereft  which  was  taken  in 
3'our  Lordflii])'s  fafety.  This  part  of  your 
Lordfliip's  hiiiory  wants  only  "  pride,  pomp, 
and  circumilance,''  to  raife  it  to  a  much 
higher  fcale  in  the  Annals  of  the  Times, 
though  your  excurfions  were  not  marked 
with  "  characters  of  blood  and  fire ;"  but  a 
far  fuperior  iinpreflion  is  given  of  your  Lord- 
fliip,  in  the  captivating  afpedl  of  your  do- 
main. 


[      V      ] 

main,  and  the  contented  looks  of  an  happy 
tenantry. 

As  I  often  expatiate  in  fancy  over  the  de- 
lightful fcenes  where  I  for  years  enjoyed 
your  Lordfliip's  converfation,  it  is  a  great 
addition  to  my  folitary  pleafures,  that  you 
can  now  enjoy  your  favourite  purfuits  with- 
out being  obliged  to  fay, 

Impius  hsec  tam  culta  novalla  miles  habebit  ? 

You  flill,  it  is  true,  cherifhed  better  hopes, 
and  your  example  might  have  been  exped;ed 
to  influence  me,  as  the  danger   was   almoft 
over  before  my  removal.     But  the  Afylum 
had  been  offered,  and  the  decilion  made,  be- 
fore fecurity  could  have  been  relied  on  by 
fuch  as  me.    Your  Lordlliip  was  at  the  head 
of  a  troop  of  Warriors ;  I  had  the  charge  of 
a  little  band  of  Pilgrims,  for  whofe  fafety  I 
was  anfwerable,  and  which,  when  put  in  the 
balance,  outweighed  every  claim  of  felf-gra- 
tification.     Not  to  mention,  that  a  proper 
fubftitute  was  not  readily  found  in  that  re- 
mote country,  I  found  that  the  truly  refpec- 
table    Prelate    who   gave    me   the    Afylum, 
expelled  my  refidence,  influenced  by  a  re- 
gard to  me  with  which   I  had  been    long 
honoured,  and  by  higher  motives  becoming 

his 


C     vi     ] 

bis  ftation  and  chara6ler.     On  the  latter  I 
could  enlarge  with  plcafure,  if  it  needed  my 
panegyric,  or  if  this  were  a  proper  place  for  it. 
In  one  refpedl  1  feel  myfelf  happy,  that  as 
I  have  fj)ent  by  much  the  pleafantell  part  of 
my  life  in  your  Lordfliip's  fociety,  I  flatter 
mjifdf  you  know  me  too  well  to  fufped:  me 
of  adulation,  even  if  I  ihould  indulge  myfelf 
in   dilating  further  on  your  Lordfliip's  cha- 
racter.    The  fentiments  of  which  I  am  con- 
fcious  with  regard  to  you,  would  not  have  fuf- 
fered  me  to  prefix  your  liOrdfliip's  name  to 
any  production  of  mine,  if  the  part  already 
offered  to  the  Public  had  not  met  with  fa- 
vour.    All  I  fliall  add  is,  that  I  wifli  it  was 
more  worthy  of  your  Lordfliip's  attention ; 
but  whatever  degree  of  amufement  it  may 
aflbrd,  I  tiuil  you  will  long  enjoy  that  hap- 
pinefs  and  diftinc^ion,  the  knowledge  of  which 
conftitutes  no  fniall  ingredient  in  the  humblcj 
eJijoyments  of  him,  who  fubfcribes  himfelf, 
with  the  greatcfl  iincerity  and  refpecft, 

Your  I^ordfhip's  affeftionate  and 

Grateful  humble  Servant, 

Uathfryland,  henry  BOYD, 

Jan.  6,  1S02 


THE 

INFERNO 


O  F 


DANTE    ALIGHIERI, 

TRANSLATED  INTO  ENGLISH  VERSE; 

WITH  HISTORICAL  NOTES, 
AND  THE  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 


COMPARATIVE     VIEW 


OF    THE 


I  N  F  E  R  N  Oj 

With  feme  other  POEMS,  relative  to  the  ORIGINAL' 
PRINCIPLES  of  human;  nature,  on  which 
they  are  founded,  or  to  which  they  appeal. 

TN  this  age  of  enlightened  reafori  and  adventurous 
difcovery,  when  it  is  grown  a  kind  of  literary 
paftirtie  to  attack  every  eftablifhment,  and  when  the 
old  fabrics  of  reafon  and  experience  are  often  expofed 
to  the  wanton  aflaults  of  genius. — It  is  but  natural, 
that  the  old  imperial  code  of  cfiticifm  fhould  begin  to 
lofe  fome  of  its  authority. 

It  is  now  grown  familiar  to  appeal  to  the  fentL 
ments  of  nature  from  the  didates  of  ArisTotle, 
and  Poets  who  were  ignorant  of  his  rules,  or  did  not 
chufe  to  plan  their  works  according  to  therri,  may  at 
lafl  expert  a  fair  hearing ;  after  having  been  long 
deemed  criminals  in  the  eyes  of  a  law'  to  which  they 
ivere  not  amenable.  Nor  is  there  any  danger  of  un- 
worthy claimants  pleading  admittance  into  the  rank 
of  claffics  in  confequence  of  the  laws  of  criticifm 
having  taken  a  more  liberal  turn.  Though  the  re- 
VoL.  I,  B  ward 


[     s     ] 

ward  of  literary  fame  or  diflionour  be  no  longer  at 
the  difpofal  of  an  arbitrary  Judge  ;  but,  with  the  other 
facred  rights  of  Englifhmen,  are  depofited  in  the  more 
liberal  hands  of  a  jury,  yet  the  verdift  of  the  heart 
■which  admits  the  claim  of  genius,  will  by  the  fame 
facred  inftinft  which  gives  a  ftamp  to  merit,  be  led 
to  reprobate  the  production  which  does  not  fall  in 
with  its  fentiments,  or  appeal  to  the  conclufions  of 
reafon. 

The  venerable  old  Bard  who  is  the  fubjeft  of  the 
prefent  enquiry  has  been  long  negleded  ;  perhaps  for 
that  reafon,  becaufe  the  merit  of  his  Poem  could  not 
be  tried  by  the  reigning  laws  of  which  the  author 
was  ignorant,  or  which  he  did  not  chufe  to  obferve  : 
He  always  indeed  was  a  favourite  with  fuch  as  were 
pofTeft  of  true  tafte,  and  dared  to  think  for  themfelves; 
but  fnice  the  French,  the  reftorers  of  the  art  of  cri- 
ticifm,  caft  a  damp  upon  original  invention,  the  cha- 
racter of  Dante  has  been  thrown  under  a  deeper 
fhade.  That  agreeable  and  volatile  nation  found  in 
themfelves  an  infuperable  averfion  to  the  gloomy  and 
romantic  bard,  whofe  genius,  ardent,  melancholy, 
and  fublime,  was  fo  different  from  their  own ;  and 
it  is  well  known  how  foon  they  became  the  fovereign 
arbiters  of  tafte,  and  how  univerfally  the  French 
fchool  of  compofition  fucceeded  to  the  Italian. 
like  Shakespeare,  the  poetr)"  of  Dante,  unfettered 
by  rules,  is  diftinguifhed  by  bold  original  ftrokes  of 
fubiimity  and  pathos  -,  and  often  by  juft  and  ftriking 
delineations  of  charader;  but  the  nature  of  Epic 
Poetry  (if  his  will  be  allov;ed  that  name)  and  the  ob- 
Icurity  of  his  language,  deprived  him  of  fome  advan- 
tages poffeffed  by  the  British  bard.  An  Epic  Poet 
cannot  immediately  appea?  to   the  feelings    of   the 

crowd 


\ 


t    5'  1 

<.tGwd  as  the  writer  of  the  drama  can.  Herniift  be 
content  with  the  approbation  of  the  ftudious,  or  at 
leaft  of  fuch  as  have  leifure  to  read  ;  but  the  drama- 
5dft,  even  if  his  genius  be  not  of  the  foremoll  kind, 
has  the  afliftance  of  the  a£tor  to  envigorate  his  fenti- 
ments.  His  heroes  appear  to  the  naked  eye — ^the 
Heroes  of  Epic  Poetry  only  are  feen  through  the 
telefcope  of  fancy,  by  the  eye  of  the  reelufe  con- 
templatift : — the  former  are  favourites  of  the  multi- 
tude, and  the  muhitude  gives  immediate  fame. 
The  laurels  of  the  heroic  bard  are  of  more  tardy 
growth,  and  are  more  at  the  mercy  of  chance^  To 
be  convinced  that  this  diverfity  proceeds  from  the 
operation  of  caufes  that  a6l  uniformly,  we  need  only 
reflect  on  the  different  fortunes  of  Homer,  and  his 
three  pupils  JEschylus,  Sophocles  and  Euripides, 
during  their  lives ;  not  to  mention  our  own  Milton 
and  Shakespeare* 

Dante  and  Homer  are  fo  far  fimllar  in  their  for- 
tunes and  genius,  that  they  were  both  the  earliefl 
poetical  writers  knovm  in  their  refpeftive  languages, 
and  both  were  remarkable  for  a  fimplicity  of  ftyle, 
and  a  greatnefs  of  thought :  Both  were  wanderers 
and  at  leaft  iot  part  of  their  Hves^  dependant  upon 
precarious  bounty :  But  the  parallel  proceeds  no  fur- 
ther ;  Homer  had  the  advantage  of  chufmg  for  his 
fubje6t,  an  event,  one  of  the  moft  illuftrious  and  in- 
terefting  in  the  annals  of  the  world ;  an  eVent  which 
gave  occafion  to  the  difplay  of  a  variety  of  chara£lersj 
and  the  agency  of  every  paflion.  This  noble  fcene 
he  has  unfolded  with  fuch  peculiar  art ;  he  has  fhewn 
fuch  a  knowledge  of  the  fprings  of  human  aftion,  and 
defcribed  a  feries  of  incidents  depending  upon  each 

B  2  other, 


[     4     ] 

Other,  in  a  manner  fo  probable,  and  yet  fo  interefting, 
that  the  rules  of  writing  an  Epic  Poem,  drawn  from 
his  Iliad  and  Odyssey  have  been  long  reduced  into 
a  fyftem.  Thefe  rules  Dante  could  not  obierve,  as 
it  is  probable  he  did  not  know  them  ;  however,  he 
does  not  write  without  a  plan,  ftill  more  fimple  and 
lefs  complicated  than  Homer's,  The  converfwn  of  a 
Jinner  by  a  fpir'ttual  giiidcy  dif playing  in  aferies  of  ter* 
rible  vifions  the  fecrets  of  Divine  fufiice^  and  ivhofe 
interpofition  had  been  procured  by  the  f application  of  a 
Saint  in  Paradife^  deeply  interefled  in  his  eternal  wel' 
fare.  Here  is  a  caufe,  an  efFed,  and  the  probable 
means  by  which  this  eiFect  is  produced  j  the  means 
are  of  a  nature  that  roufe  the  ftrongeft  paflions. 
Terror  and  Pity,  and  the  effeft  is  deeply  and  univer- 
fally  interefting.  *Tis  true,  this  plan  does  not  admit 
of  a  train  of  connected  incidents,  nor  a  variety  of 
adion,  arifmg  from  that  oppofition  of  interefts  and 
play  of  the  paflions,  which  muft  naturally  arife  in 
defcribing  the  confequence  of  the  wrath  of  Achilles  ; 
but  a  uniform  fcene  of  flaughter  muft  tire,  though  di- 
yerfified  with  all  the  various  fortunes  of  the  day,  and 
all  the  jarring  paflions  of  Gods  and  men.  The  wrath 
of  Achilles  gives  rife  to  a  fcene  of  bloodfiied,  and  his 
reconciliation  only  gives  occafion  to  accumulated 
ruin. — Here  then,  in  the  province  of  defcription,  the 
Florentine,  (I  think)  has  the  advantage.  The  different 
allotments  of  his  criminals  afford  room  for  a  wonderful 
variety  of  fublime  imagery ;  and  the  adaptation  of 
their  punifliments  to  their  crimes,  gives  a  noble  op- 
portunity for  the  exertions  of  fancy.  The  machinery^ 
or  the  part  that  fpiritual  agents  are  employed  in,  is  to 
us,  the  leaft  interefting  part  in  both  Homer *s  Poems  ; 

but 


C    5    ] 

but  the  machinery  of  Dante,  though  lefs  diverfified, 
is  much  more  folemn  and  affeding :  It  coincides  with 
the  rational  belief  of  the  enlightened  mind,  and  no  lefs 
with  the  fuperftition  of  the  vulgar ;  and  we  may  juftly 
obferve,  in  the  words  of  the  firft  critic  of  his  age, 
that  with  refpe£t  to  him^  as  well  as  Milton,  *  "  the 
probable  is  marvellous,  and  the  marvellous  is  probable.** 
By   the   complication   and  oppofition  of  interefls 
which    muft  arife  in  an  a£tion  fit  for  the  fubjefl  of 
Epic  Poetry,  the  human  character  muft  appear  in  the 
ftrongeft  and  moft  afFe£ling  points  of  view,  as  well  as 
in  the  greateft  variety  of  fituations  ;  yet,  in  the  courfe 
of  a  martial  enterprife,  among  a  people  unciviHzed  and 
rude,    thofe  profpeds   muft   be  rather   fimilar,    and 
this  variety  very  much  confined. — It  muft  indeed  be 
confefTed  that  the  modern  Poet,    from  the  nature  o£ 
his  plan,  was  obliged  to  fhew  all  his  characters  either 
in  the  cireumftance  of  aftual  fuffering,  or  in  dread  of 
fuffering  : — Yet,  it  muft  be  obferved,  that  in  the  Iliad 
we  only  fee  the  Heroes  of  antient  times,  as  they  appear 
to  each  other  in  public,  in  the  buftle  of  a  camp,  or 
the  heat  of  adifpute.     It  is  not  fo  in  the  Inferno.     By 
Dante  we  are  indulged  with  a  nearer  and  more  inward 
view  of  the  man,  as  he  really  is ;  or,  in  other  words, 
as  his  charader  appears  in  the  eye  of  offended  and 
omnifcient  juftice.     In  Homer  our  profped  is  confined 
to  one  walk  of  life,  one  fpecies  of  adion,  one  heroic 
age,  in  many  circumftances  very  remote  from  our  pre- 
fent  modes  of  ading  and  thinking.     We  are  entirely, 
(I  fpeak  of  the  Iliad)  confined  to  the  camp,  the  coun. 
fel,  and  the  field  of  battle.     This  unity  of  time  and 
place,  'tis  true,  gives  an  opportunity  to  the  bard  of 
ennobling  a  very  Ihort  period,  or  a  very  limited  fcene, 

*  Sec  Johnson's  Life  of  Milton. 

B  3  with 


r  6  1 

with  a  great  Tariefy  of  incidents,  all  connected  together; 
and  the  more  probable  fuch  incidents  are,  the  greater 
tribute  we  pay  his  genius.  But  this  is  rather  inventing 
incidems  than  delineating  characters ;  for  in  fuch  ai^ 
adion  as  the  Iliad,  the  charaders  mud  be  pretty  much 
the  fame ;  or  they  will  at  leaft  be  diftinguiftied  by 
traits  of  a  very  minute  kind.  But  the  greater  the 
variety  of  charaders  delineated  in  any  Poem,  the  ge* 
nius  of  the  author,  though  perhaps  lefs  cultivated^ 
mud  be  allowed  to  be  more  exuberant.^— /^^w/^-'s 
plan,  like  Shakefpeare's,  allowed  him  the  liberty  of 
expatiating  in  the  walks  of  public  and  private  life ; 
and  of  ancient  and  modern  times  :  He  introduces  in^ 
difcriminately  the  Statefman  and  the  Hero,  the  Lovejj 
and  the  Sage,  the  Pubhcan  and  the  Prelate.  This* 
indeed,  fometimes  leads  him  into  whimfical  affocia* 
tions ;  as  when  he  gives  a  view  of  Sinon,  the  be, 
trayer  of  Troy  ;  and  the  wife  of  Potiphar,  in  the  fame 
bed  together,  under  the  influence  of  an  incurable  an4 
malignant  difeafe. 

But  the  mod  daring  flights  of  fancy,  the  moft  ac* 
curate  delineations  of  character,  and  the  moft  artful 
conduct  of  fable ;  are  not,  even  when  combined 
together,  fufficient  of  themfelves  to  make  a  poenj 
interefting. 

l^on  fatis  eft  pulchra  ejfe  poemata,  dulcia  funto, 

HORA 

The  Greeks  and  Trojans  may  purfue  their  quarrel  by 
fraud  and  force  ;  and  various  incidents  mark  the  for* 
tune  of  the  day :  the  difcord  of  Achilles  and  Aga, 
MEMNON  may  produce  the  moft  tragical  confequences  j 
but  if  we,  who  are  cool  and  impartial  in  the  affair, 
neither  hurried  by  paffion  nor  blinded  by  intereft, 

cannot 


E    7   3 

cannot  enter  warmly  into  the  views  of  either  party ; 
the  ilor)^,  though  adorned  with  all  the  genius  of  an 
Homer,  will  be  read  by  us  with  fome  degree  of  non* 
chalayice.  The  fuperflition  that  led  the  Crufaders  to 
refcue  the  Holy  Land  from  the  Infidels ;  inflead  of 
interefting  us,  appears  frigid,  if  not  ridiculous.  We 
cannot  be  much  concerned  for  the  fate  of  fuch  a  crew 
of  fanatics,  notwithftanding  the  magic  numbers  of  a 
Taflb.  The  exploded  machinery  of  Demons  and 
Magicians,  which  he  was  obliged  to  ufe,  fhows  what 
miferable  refources  he  was  reduced  to,  in  order  to  give 
fo  ill-chofen  a  ftory  any  hold  upon  the  imagination  5 
an  hold  which,  by  means  of  that  very  machinery,  he 
fooneft  loft. — But  there  muft  be  fomething  to  intereft 
the  heart: — ^we  cannot  fympathife  with  Achilles  for 
the  lofs  of  his  Miftrefs,  when  we  feel  that  he  gained 
her  by  the  maflacre  of  her  family : — and  when,  in  the 
very  middle  of  his  complaint,  he  owns  that  he  brought 
deftrudion  upon  the  Trojans  without  any  manner  of 
provocation. 

No  hoftile  troops  to  Fhthia^^  realms  they  led  ; 
Safe  in  her  vales  my  warlike  courfers  fed ; 
Far  hence  remov'd,  the  hoarfe  refounding  main. 
And  walls  of  rock,  fecur*d  my  native  reign : 
Hither  we  failM,  a  voluntary  throng, 
T*  avenge  a  private,  not  a  public  wrong. 

Pope's  Homer,  B.  L 

When  a  man,  where  no  intereft  is  concerned,  no 
provocation  given,  lays  a  whole  nation  in  blood 
merely  for  his  glory  ;  we,  to  whom  his  glory  is  indif- 
ferent, cannot  enter  into  his  refentment. — Befides, 
fuppofmg  we  could,    he  carries  his  refentment  too 

far« 


C     8     ] 

far.^WIth  thefe  paflions  of  the  cruel  and  unfoclal 
kind,  we  cannot  fympathife;  they  repel  the  mind^l 
and  fill  it  with  abhorrence  inftead  of  attracting  it.* 
Such  may  be  good  poetical  chara£ler^,  of  that  mixt  kind 
that  Ariftotle  admits  j  but  the  mofl:  beautiful  mixture 
of  light  and  Ihade  havS  no  attraction,  unlefs  it  warms 
the  heart.  It  mufl  have  fomething  that  engages  the 
fympathy,  fomething  that  appeals  to  the  moral  fenfe : 
for  nothing  can  thoroughly  captivate  the  fancy,  how- 
ever artfully  delineated,  that  does  not  awake  the  fym- 
pathy, and  interefl  the  paflions  that  enlift  on  the  fide 
of  Virtue ;  and  appeal  to  our  native  notions  of  right 
and  wrong.  All  fables  of  another  kind,  where  this 
interefl  is  difregarded, 

■  ■       Play  round  the  head,  but  never  toilch  the 
heart, 

It  is  this  that  fets  the  Odyjfey,  in  point  of  fentiment, 
fo  far  above  the  Iliad.  We  feel  the  injuries  of  UlyiTes  ; 
we  enter  thoroughly  into  his  refentments  againfl  men, 
who  had  treated  him  with  the  highefl  injuflice,  ingra- 
titude, and  perfidy  ;  men  who  had  taken  advantage  of 
his  long  abfence  ^o  invade  his  property,  and  attempt  to 
injure  him  in  the  tendered  point.  We  are  not  only 
interefted  for  the  Father,  but  we  feem  to  feel  the  ge- 
nerous indignation  of  the  young  Telemachus,  and  we 
tremble  at  the  dangers  of  the  fair  Penelope,  We  do 
not  think  any  punifhment  too  fevere  for  fuch  a  com- 
plication of  cruelty,  effeminacy,  and  injuflice,  as  ap- 
pears in  the  character  of  the  fuitors  of  Penelope :  we 
can  go  along  with  the  refentment  of  Ulyffes,  becaufe 
it  is  jufl ;  but  our  feelings  mufl  tell  us  that  Achilles 
carries  his  refentment  to  a  favage  length,  a  length 
v^here  we  cannot  follow  him  5  the  confequences  (how 

us 


C    9    ] 

US  the  fatal  eiFe6ls  of  difcord.  But,  as  both  parties 
are  equally  engaged  in  the  commlffion  of  injuries,  an 
unprejudiced  reader  cannot  enter  into  the  refentment 
of  either. 

Iliacos  extra  muros  peccatur  ;  et  intra. 

It  is  a  contefl  between  barbarians,  equally  guilty  of 
injuftice,  rapine,  and  bloodfhed ;  and  we  are  not 
forry  to  fee  the  vengeance  of  Heaven  equally  inflicted 
on  both  parties. 

-^neas  indeed  is  a  more  amiable  perfonage  than 
Achilles ;  he  feems  meant  for  a  perfeft  charader. 
But  compare  his  conduct  with  refpe£t  to  Dido,  with 
the  felf-denial  of  Dry  den's  Cleomenes;  or  with  the  con- 
duct of  Titus  in  the  Berenice  of  Racine  ;  Vf&Jhall  then 
fee  what  is  meant  by  making  a  character  interejiing* 
We  Jhall  at  the  fame  time  fee  the  different  ideas  oJF 
moral  perfe£tion  which  we  entertain  now,  and  require 
in  an  interefling  character,  in  comparifon  to  what  was 
neceffary  in  former  times,  ^neas,  by  the  connivance 
of  the  Gods,  leads  the  hofpitable  Queen  of  Carthage 
into  guilt ;  and,  by  the  command  of  the  Gods,  piouJJy 
leaves  her  to  ruin  and  defpair. 

-  Titus  has  indulged  a  long  paffion  for  Berenice, 
which  fhe  returns  with  mutual  ardour  ;  but  fufpeding 
that  the  Romans,  though  fubjefted  to  the  yoke,  would 
never  bear  the  dominion  of  a  ^een,  educated  in  all 
the  defpotic  principles  of  the  Eaft  ;  he  refigns  his  paf- 
fion to  their  innate  abhorrence  of  royalty ;  and  dif- 
miifes  the  diftrafted  princefs,  after  a  long  flruggle 
between  love  and  patriotifm. 

,  Here  we  thoroughly  fympathife  with  the  Hero  ;  we 
£eel  for  him  ;  and,  though  we  are  fenfible  that  in  fuch 
a  conteft  we  fhould  hardly  have  come  off  vidors ;  yet, 

as 


C     '0    1 

as  our  paflions  are  not  bribed  to  be  of  either  party,  our 
impartial  fenfe  of  duty  applauds  the  patriotifm  of  the 
Emperor  : — and  here  it  is  remarkable,  that  the  fam« 
impartiality  that  I  may  fay  interefts  us  againfl  the  cha- 
rader  of  Achilles  and  Agamemnon  ;  interefts  us  for  the 
charafter  of  Titus  and  Telemachtis. 

Let  us  compare  the  charader  of  ^neas  with 
that  of  the  laft-named  hero,  and  we  fliall  find,  that, 
however  inferior  the  poem  of  Telemaque  may  be  to  the 
other,  in  point  of  invention  and  fublimity ;  yet,  in 
the  latter,  the  nobleft  ufe  of  poetry  is  difplayed.  A 
charafter,  at  the  fame  time  amiable  and  heroic,  is 
Ihown  to  be  confiftent  and  beautiful ;  we  are  interefted 
in  the  fate  of  a  Prince  whom  we  muft  love,  and  the 
fajjions  are  engaged  on  the  fide  of  virtue. 

But,  as  to  the  effeft  of  all  thefe  poems  on  the  heart, 
they  are  partial  and  confined,  when  compared  to  the 
Inferno,  with  refpedt  to  the  original  principles  of  our 
nature  on  which  they  are  founded,  or  the  fentiments 
to  which  they  appeal. 

The  Iliad  could  be  interefting  in  a  proper  degree 
only  to  a  Greek  ;  and  that  fo  far  only  as  it  tended  to 
awake  his  fenfe  of  national  glory.  The  Mneid  could 
only  be  interefting  to  a  native  of  Rome. — But  where- 
cver  the  abhorrence  of  vice,  the  natural  love  of  virtue 
and  juftice,  and  the  notion  of  a  moral  Governor  of 
the  Univerfe  prevails  ;  wherever  the  notion  of  Provi- 
dence is  found ;  wherever  the  perfuafion  of  the  im- 
mortality of  the  foul  and  divine  juftice  predominates  ; 
wherever  the  power  of  confcience,  and  the  idea  of 
right  and  wrong,  and  of  future  rewards  and  punifh- 
ments  governs  the  human  breaft ;  there  the  poem  of 
the  Inferno  can  never  fail  to  intereft.  Thefe  notions  to 
us  have  all  the  appearance  of  innate  principles,  of 

ideas 


^ 


ideas  born  with  us,  becaufe  they  are  by  inftru9:io!i 
introduced  fo  early  in  the  mind  that  we  do  not  recol- 
lect their  origin :  becaufe  they  are  familiar,  they  arc 
too  little  confidered ;  and  by  want  of  confideration, 
their  eifedt  is  leffened.  It  will  not  therefore,  I  hope, 
be  thought  inconfiflent  with  the  prefent  fubjed  to  give 
fome  account  how  thefe  fentiments  rife  in  the  mind, 
as  fuch  an  inquiry  will  be  found  neceffary  to  give  the 
prefent  poem  its  full  eflfe^t.  To  fome,  this  inveftigation 
may  be  ufeful  on  its  own  account ;  others  to  whom  it 
is  familiar  will  allow  us  to  plead  the  precept  and  ex- 
ample of  a  late  eminent  writer  *,  who,  when  he  was 
obliged  to  go  over  the  beaten  ground  of  the  feudal 
fyjiem^  in  order  to  explain  the  national  hiftory,  de-» 
fended  himfelf  by  obferving,  "  That  every  thing  ne» 
ceflary  to  illuftrate  a  fubjeft  fo  important,  ought  not 
to  be  looked  for  elfewhere,  but  be  found  in  the  book 
itfelf." 

When  a  man  confults  his  own  feelings,  he  will  find 
vice  detellable  in  its  own  nature.  He  will  find  him- 
self armed  with  an  inftindive  refentment  againft  injuries 
of  every  kind  ;  even  before  he  takes  time  to  reflefl:  on 
the  idea  of  a  legiflator,  or  the  pernicious  confequence 
of  vice  to  fociety  in  general.  When  Moralifts,  inftead 
of  appealing  to  our  original  fentiments  for  our  difap- 
probation  of  vice  and  injuftice,  expatiate  coolly  on 
their  bad  influence  on  fociety,  and  leave  out  the  con- 
fideration of  their  native  turpitude ;  it  has  this  bad 
ciFe6k  at  leafl:,  that  it  gives  encouragement  to  reafoners 
of  a  certain  cafl  to  argue,  from  topics  fpecious  enough, 
that  private  vices  are  public  benejits  ;  a  doftrine  which 
never  could  have  got  footing,  if,  with  the  confe- 

*    HuMfi. 

quenccs 


C    '«    ] 


quences  of  vice  upon  a  nation  at  large,  we  had  always 
paid  a  proper  attention  to  the  real  deformity  of  its 
nature  and  the  hatred  it  infpired.  Antecedent  to  and 
independent  of  all  laws,  a  man  may  learn  to  argue  on 
the  nature  of  moral  obligation,  and  the  duty  of  uni- 
verfal  benevolence,  from  Cumberland,  Wollajlon^ 
Shaftcjbitry,  Hutchefon ;  he  may  learn  from  them  the 
balance  of  the  paiTions,  and  the  difference  between 
thofe  of  the  focial  and  unfocial  kind  ; — but,  would  he 
feet  what  vice  is  in  itfelf ;  would  he  learn  the  genuine 
fentiments  of  nature  upon  it ;  would  he  fee  the  bed 
natural  comment  upon  the  Decalogue ;  let  him  enter 
into  the  paflions  of  Lear,  when  he  feels  the  ingratitude 
of  his  children  ;  of  Hamlet,  when  he  learns  the  ftory 
of  his  father's  murder ;  of  Othello,  when  he  fhudders 
at  lagoi^s  tale  ;  of  Chamont,  when  he  burns  with  hon- 
ourable indignation  at  a  fifter's  wrongs ;  let  him  feel 
what  Hermione  or  Edgar  felt,  when  finking  under  the 
weight  of  a  falfe  accufation ;  let  him  reflet  on  the 
fentiments  of  thofe  who  fuffered  by  the  ambition  of 
Richard,  the  avarice  of  Shyloc,  or  the  cruelty  and  luft 
of  Bajazet;  and  he  will  know  the  difference  of  right 
and  wrong  much  moxA  clearly  than  from  all  the  mo- 
ralifts  that  ever  wrote. 

That  there  is  a  real  difference  between  moral  good 
and  evil,  between  virtue  and  vice,  appears  from  this  ; 
that,  in  reality,  the  difference  of  virtue  and  vice  is 
founded  by  nature  on  the  difference  of  natural  good 
and  evil :  and  it  is  for  want  of  attending  to  the  iifues 
and  confequences  of  things,  that  men  are  ever  guilty 
of  making  a  miflake. — Why  is  prodigality  a  vice  I 
Becaufe  it  deprives  me  of  competence,  a  natural  good  j 
and  reduces  me  to  poverty,  a  natural  evil.     The  fame 

connexion 


i 


C     '3    ] 

connexion  holds  good  between  every  virtue  and  every 
inflance  of  happinefs ;  every  vice  and  every  inftance  of 
mifery :  whatever  tends  truly  and  univerfally  to  the 
perfedion  of  human  nature,  to  the  general  happinefs 
of  mankind,  is  ?noral  good  as  well  as  natural ;  and 
moral  Enj'tl  is  that  which  corrupts,  depraves,  and  dif- 
honours  our  nature,  and  renders  it  truly  miferable. 
But  what  deceives  and  impofes  upon  men  is,  becaufe 
they  do  not  always  fee  natural  evil  the  immediate  con- 
fequence  of  vice  j  but,  though  remote,  it  is  not  the 
lefs  certain  and  neceflary  ; — if  we  don't  feel  the  con- 
iequences  of  our  guilt  here,  fome  other  perfon  mujfl ; 
and  if  we  have  the  feeling  of  human  nature,  his  re- 
fentments  ought  to  ihew  us  the  turpitude  of  the  crime. 
The  wickedefl  of  men  do  themfelves  give  teflimony  to 
the  truth  of  this  general  propofition,  that  there  is  ori- 
ginally, in  the  very  nature  of  things,  a  neceflary  and 
eternal  difference  between  Good  and  Evil,  Virtue  and 
Vice,  which  the  nature  of  things-  themfelves  oblige 
men  to  have  a  conftant  regard  to  ;  but,  with  refped:  to 
worldly  profperity,  things  fee?n  not  to  be  diftributed 
according  to  the  flritt  rules  of  juftice  in  this  fublunary 
ftate.  We  fee  profperity  the  general  confequence  of 
vigilance,  induftry,  and  prudence ;  virtues  which  are 
as  often  pradifed  by  the  bad  as  the  good  :  the  wicked 
man  reaps  the  fruits  of  his  induftry,  the  indolent  man 
pays  the  forfeit  of  his  floth.  Juftice  and  the  courfe  of 
this  world  require,  that  riches  fhould  be  the  reward  of 
prudence  and  its  concomitant  virtues.  For,  let  us 
confider  what  would  be  the  confequence,  if  matters 
were  otherwife  ordered  : — a  bad  man  orders  his  affairs 
with  confummate  prudence  and  forefight ;  perhaps  he 
has  been  guilty  of  iniuftice  or  opprefTion  in  the  acqui- 

fition, 


C   '4  3 

fition  ;  for  this  he  becomes  the  objeft  of  heavenly  ven* 
geance  here  ;  and  what  is  the  confequence  ?  Notwith* 
(landing  all  his  vigilance,  his  defigns  are  uniformly 
blafted,  and  his  affairs  fall  to  ruin.  The  ruin  muft  in 
this  cafe  be  general ;  for  even  the  good  who  are  con- 
nected with  him,  or  who  in  the  courfe  of  affairs  would 
be  fupplied  by  his  abundance,  muft  fuffer  by  his 
loffes,  and  even  his  own  innocent  family  muft  fuffbr 
with  him. 

It  is  juft  therefore,  that  prudence  and  Its  concomi- 
tant virtues,  which  can  be  praftifed  as  well  by  the  bad 
as  the  good,  (hould  uniformly  be  rewarded  here.  The 
induftrious  knave  cultivates  the  foil ;  the  indolent  good 
man  leaves  it  uncultivated.  Who  ought  to  reap  the 
harveft  ?  who  ought  to  ftarve  ?  who  live  in  plenty  ? 
The  natural  courfe  of  things  decides  in  favour  of  the 
villain ;  the  natural  fentiments  of  men  in  favour  of  the 
man  of  virtue.  When  violence,  and  artifice,  con- 
ducted by  prudence  and  fore-thought,  prevail  over 
fincerity  and  juftice  attended  with  a  lefs  degree  of  vi- 
gilance, what  indignation  it  raifes  in  the  breaft  of  man  J 
His  natural  equity  induces  him  to  ftrive  to  correct  it 
by  the  interference  of  law,  and  the  fanCtion  of  punifti- 
ment ;  and  when  we  defpair  of  finding  upon  earth  any 
forcible  means  to  check  the  triumphs  of  injuftice,  we 
naturally  appeal  to  Heaven.  We  are  con\inced,  that 
the  Great  Author  of  Nature  will  execute,  hereafter, 
what  the  moral  principles  he  has  given  us  prompt  us 
to  attempt,  even  here,  by  the  interpofition  of  laws. 
We  truft,  that  he  will  complete  the  plan  which  he 
himfelf  has  thus  taught  us  to  begin ;  and,  in  a  life  to 
come,  render  to  every  one  according  to  the  works 
Vrhich  he  has  done  in  this  world.  Thus  we  are  led  to  the 

belief 


C    «5    ] 

belief  of  a  Future  State  ;  not  alone  by  our  weaknefs  5 
not  alone  by  the  hopes  of  life  and  the  fears  of  annihi- 
lation implanted  in  human  nature ;  but  by  the  nobleft 
and  beft  principles  that  belong  to  it ;  by  the  love  of 
virtue,  and  the  abhorrence  of  vice  and  injuftice. 

It  is  not  neceflary  here  to  examine  the  different  opi* 
nions  of  antient  authors  on  the  immortality  of  the 
Soul,  The  natural  evidence  in  this  cafe  is  not  fo  much 
to  be  eftimated  by  the  different  abilities  of  the  writers^ 
as  by  the  common  fenfe  of  mankind.  This,  and  all 
other  opinions,  which,  derive  themfelves  from  the 
light  of  nature,  owe  their  authority,  not  to  the  ab- 
flradted  reafoning  'of  any  fchool,  but  to  fome  general 
fenfe  or  notion  which  is  to  be  found  in  all  men,  or  to 
fome  common  and  uncontroverted  maxim  of  reafon. 
Unbelievers  have  often  abufed  their  time  and  pains  by 
confronting  the  teftimonies  of  antient  Philofophers, 
and  Ihewing  their  inconfiftencies  on  this  point. 
But  what  if  Plato,  Aristotle,  or  Tully  are 
inconfiflent  with  each  other,  and  with  themfelves  ?— 
What  is  this  to  the  evidence  of  nature,  which  is  not 
the  fmgle  opinion  of  Plato,  or  any  other  Philofopher, 
but  the  united  voice  of  mankind  ? — This  was  the 
common  belief  of  the  world,  derived  from  fome  com- 
mon fenfe  or  principle  of  reafon,  before  any  philo- 
fopher had  fo  much  as  thought  of  an  abfl:ra<2:  reafon 
for  it :  And  had  not  the  univerfal  fenfe  of  nature,  01 
early  tradition,  dictated  the  truth  to  them,  people 
never  would  have  thought  of  philofophizing  upon  it. 
That  the  common  fenfe  of  manldnd,  whether  founded 
on  tradition  or  reafon,  was  the  foundation  of  the 
Jihilofophical  enquiry,  appears  from  this,  that  all  the 
antient  writers  on  this  fubje^t  appeal  to  the  common 

fenfe. 


C     '6    ] 

fenfe,  and  eonfent  of  mankind,  as  one  great  proof  fof 
the  truth  of  this  dodrine ;  which  certainly  proves  this, 
at  leafl,  that  this  opinion  was  held  before  there  were 
any  writers,  and  before  ajiy  philofophical  reafons  were 
thought  of.  If  the  notion  was  connnon,  it  never 
Could  have  rifen  from  philofophical  reafoning,  for  no 
common  opinion  ever  will,  nor  ever  did  ;  and  the  rea- 
fon  is  plain  ;  a  common  opinion  is'  the  opinion  of  the 
multitude,  who  never  were,  nor  ever  will  be,  capable 
of  attending  to  abftrafted  reafoning  :  Now  this  natural 
evidence  is  the  thing  which  we  enquire  after,  and 
which  will  fland  its  ground  whatever  comes  of  the 
notions  of  learned  men. 

The  belief  and  perfuafion  of  the  certainty  of  anoth 
life  (as  was  obferved  before)  arofe  from  the  commoi 
fenfe  that  men  have  of  the  diiference  of  good  and  evil 
and  thence,  that  under  the  government  of  a  juft  God, 
every  man  muft  be  accountable  for  the  things  done  in 
this  world.  This  account  they  faw  was  not  taken 
here  ;  hence  they  concluded,  or  rather  felt^  from  the 
very  force  of  reafon  and  confcience,  or  from  their 
fenfe  of  juilice,  that  there  was  an  account  to  be  given 
hereafter.  Such  an  internal  argument  as  this,  which 
fprings  up  in  the  heart,  and  from  the  heart  of  every 
man,  has  a  greater  weight  with  it,  than  all  the  rcafon- 
ings  of  philofophy  put  together ;  and  will  tie  merj 
down,  if  not  to  hope  for,  at  leafl  to  fear-^  a  future 
immortality  ;  any  of  which  is  the  filent  voice  of  na^ 
ture,  bearing  teilimony  of  a  life  to  come. 

That  this  is  the  true  foundation  of  the  univerfal  be* 

lief  of  a  future  Life,  appears  from  this,  that  the  per. 

fuafion  of  another  Life  was  always  conneded  with  a 

fuppofition  that  there  were  difierent  ftates  for  good  and 

it  bad 


C   17   ] 

bad  men,  fo  that  we  cannot  any  where  trace  the  notion 
of  immortality  ;  but  we  find  evidence  alfo  for  the  dif- 
ferent conditions  of  men  in  another  Life  according  as 
they  have  behaved  in  this.  Now,  thefe  two  opinions 
being  thus  infeparably  connected,  it  is  eafy  to  fee 
which  is  the  natural  and  primary  opinion,  and  which 
is  the  confequence  drawn  from  it.  Let  any  man  try, 
and  he  will  find,  that  it  is  not  the  expectation  of  Living 
that  makes  him  infer  the  neceffity  of  a  Judgment  to 
come  ;  but  it  is  the  nobleft  principle  of  his  nature,  the 
Love  of  Virtue,-  and  the  Abhorrence  of  Vice  and  In- 
juftice,  which  makes  him  fee  the  reafonablenefs  of  a 
Judgment  to  come,  and  from  thence  he  infers  that 
there  mull  be  a  Life  to  come. 

To  what  an  amazing  growth  this  nation  encreafed 
in  the  hands  of  Poets ;  and  of  Dante  in  particular, 
is  well  known  :  They  named  the  Princes  and  the  Jud- 
ges, and  defcribed  the  tortures  of  the  wicked  as  their 
fancies  led  them,  and  their  inventions  became  the 
Vulgar  Theology  j  but  this  fhews  the  truth  of  what 
is  aflerted  above  ;  for  neither  would  the  Poets,  whofe 
bufinefs  it  is  to  raife  fine  fcenes  upon  the  plan  and  pro- 
bability of  nature,  have  fo  painted  the  torments  and 
enjoyments  of  men  departed  j  nor  would  the  world 
have  received  their  inventions,  had  there  not  been  a 
foundation  in  the  natural  notions  of  men  to  fupport 
the  Romance, 

As  to  thofe  who  think  the  notion  of  a  future  Life 
arofe  from  the  defcriptions  and  inventions  of  the 
Poets  ;  they  may  juft  as  well  fuppofe  that  eating  and 
drinking  had  the  fame  original ;  and  that  men  had 
never  thought  of  fuftaining  nature,  but  for  the  fine 
feafts   and  entertainments  defcribed  in  fuch  writers. 

C  The 

/ 


C     '8     ] 

The  Poets  Indeed  altered  the  genuine  fentlments  of 
nature,  and  tinged  the  Light  of  Reaibn  by  introducing 
the  wild  conceits  of  Fancy  ;  and  when  once  they  had 
grafted  fuch  fcions  on  the  flock  of  nature,  they  throve 
fo  fad,  and  grew  fo  rank,  that  the  natural  branches 
were  deprived  of  their  nourifhment,  by  the  luxuriance 
of  this  wild  Olive.  But  flill  the  root  was  natural, 
though  the  fruit  was  wild.  All  that  nature  teaches  is, 
that  there  is  a  future  life,  diftinguiflied  into  different 
ftates  of  happinefs  and  mifery,  in  which  men  will  be 
rewarded  and  punifhed  according  as  they  have  purfued 
or  neglefted  the  rules  of  virtue  and  honour.  This 
notion  prevailed  where  the  Fables  of  Greece,  or  Italy, 
were  never  heard  of ;  and  wicked  men  felt  in  them- 
felves  the  fear  of  the  wrath  to  come  to,  although  they 
had  never  fo  much  as  learnt  the  name  of  Tantalus, 
or  Sisyphus,  or  any  other  name,  in  the  Poet*s  fcene 
of  Hell. 

The  natural  evidence  then  of  Life  and  Immortality 
fland  equally  clear  of  being  the  inventions  of  Poetry, 
or  the  mere  fubtlety  and  refinements  of  Philofophy ; 
and  though  it  be  allied  to  both,  yet  it  arofe  from  nei- 
ther. The  truth  of  the  cafe,  with  refpe£t  to  both,  is 
this :  The  Poets  found  men  in  poflfefTion  of  the  doc- 
trine of  future  rewards  and  punifhments  for  good  and 
bad  men :  Upon  this  foundation  they  went  to  work, 
and  the  plain  draught  of  nature  was  almoft  hid  under 
the  fhades  and  colours  with  which  they  thought  pro- 
per to  beautify  and  adorn  it.  The  Philofophers  found 
the  fame  perfuafion  in  themfelves  and  others  ;  and  as 
their  profefTion  led  them,  fearched  out  for  phyfical 
reafons  to  fupport  the  caufe.  This  enquiry  has  fur- 
nifhed  us  with  the  various  opinions  of  antiquity,  as  to 

the 


[     '9    ] 

the  nature  and  operation  of  the  foul,  its  manner  of  afting 
in  the  body,  and  out  of  it,  its  eternity  and  immortality, 
and  feveral  other  curious  pieces  of  learning.  How  far 
any  or  all  of  thefe  Enquirers  fucceeded  in  proving  the 
Immortality  of  the  Soul,  from  phyfical  caufes,  is  a 
matter  that  does  not  fall  within  the  prefent  fubjeft. 
As  to  the  prefent  point,  it  is  plain,  that  the  natural 
evidence  is  not  at  all  affefted  by  their  fuccefs,  be  it 
what  it  will ;  for  the  natural  evidence  is  prior  to  their 
enquiries,  and  ftands  upon  another  foot,  upon  the 
common  fenfe  and  apprehenfion  of  mankind. — The 
fchools  may  determine  the  Soul  to  be  Fire,  or  Air,  or 
Harmony,  or  what  elfe  they  pleafe  ;  yet,  ftill,  nature 
will  make  every  man  feel,  that  the  Grave  will  not 
fecure  him  from  appearing  before  the  great  Tribunal 
to  which  he  is  accountable. 

But  befides  our  innate  love  of  Virtue,  and  hatred 
of  Injuflice,  there  are  other  principles  in  our  nature 
which  perpetually  inculcate  thefe  things  upon  us  j  and 
to  which  all  writers,  who  have  launched  into  views  of 
futurity,  make  their  conftant  appeal ;  that  (hame  and 
remorfe  which  attend  on  guilt,  and  which  arife  from 
natural  impreffions  on  the  mind  of  man.  It  is  certain 
from  experience,  that  we  can  no  more  direft  by  our 
choice  the  rejle6iiom  of  our  minds,  than  we  can  the 
fenfations  of  the  body.  When  the  fire  bums,  flefh  and 
blood  mufl  feel  pain ;  and  a  rational  mind,  compelled 
to  ad  againft  its  own  convidions,  muft  ever  grieve 
and  be  afflided :  thofe  natural  connexions  are  unalter- 
ably fixed  by  the  Author  of  Nature,  and  eftablifhed  to 
be  the  means  of  our  prefervation.  We  are  taught  by 
the  fenfe  of  pain  to  avoid  things  hurtful  or  deftrudive 
to  the  body  — aod  the  torment  and  anxiety  of  mind 

C  2  which 


C   so   3 

which  follow  fo  clofe  upon  the  heels  of  Sin  and  Guilt, 
are  placed  as  Guardians  on  our  Innocence;  is  Centinels, 
to  give  us  as  early  notice  of  the  approach  of  Evil,  which 
threaten  the  peace  and  comfort  of  our  Lives.  If  we 
be  perfect  mailers  of  the  fenfations  of  our  minds,  if 
refledion  be  fo  much  under  our  command,  that  when 
we  fay,  "  come,"  it  cometh,  when  we  fay,  "  go,"  it 
goeth ;  how  does  it  come  to  pafs  that  fo  many  fuffer 
from  the  uneafy  thoughts  and  fuggellions  of  their  own  * 
hearts,  when  they  have  nothing  to  do  but  difmifs  thefe 
troublefome  vifitants  when  they  pleafe  ?  Whence  comes 
the  felf-convidion,  the  felf-condemnation  of  the  vicious? 
Whence  the  foreboding  thoughts  of  Judgment  to  come, 
the  fad  expectations  of  Divine  vengeance,  and  the  dread 
of  future  mifery,  if  the  criminal  has  it  in  his  power  to  bid 
thofe  melancholy  thoughts  retire ;  and  can,  when  he 
pleafes,  fit  down  enjoying  his  iniquities  in  peace  and 
tranquillity  ?  Thefe  confiderations  make  it  evident  that 
the  pain  and  grief  of  mind  which  we  fuffer  from  a  fenfe 
of  having  done  ill,  flow  from  the  very  conftitution  of  our 
nature,  as  we  are  Rational  Agents ;  nor  can  we  conceive 
any  ftronger  arguments  of  the  utter  irreconcileablenefs 
of  the  Deity  to  vice,  than  that  he  has  given  us  fuch  a 
nature  that  we  cannot  be  reconciled  to  it  ouifelves— 
we  never  like  it  in  others,  where  we  have  no  intereft 
in  the  crime,  nor  long  approve  of  it  ourfelves  where 
We  have.  The  hours  of  cool  reflection  are  the  morti- 
fication of  the  guilty  man,  for  vice  never  can  be  happy 
in  the  company  of  Reafon. 

To  return  from  this  long  digreffion  ;  the  paffions 
which  the  Iliad  and  ^neid  appeal  to  are  tranfient 
and  variable  ;  they  are  not  felt  in  an  equal  degree  by 
all,  and  byfome  hardly  perceived.    The  operations  of 

anger 


C      21      J 

anger  and  indignation,  hope,  and  fear,  fympathy  and 
pity,  are  violent,  but  fliort  lived ;  and  the  Poets  who 
have  endeavoured  to  keepthefe  fentiments  longer  alive 
by  art,  than  nature  has  permitted,  only  make  them- 
felves  ridiculous,  and  gain  to  their  compofitions  the 
name  of  Bomhaji.  But  when  the  effe£l  of  a  Poem, 
depends  upon  principles  extenfive  as  human  nature, 
fentiments  to  be  found  in  every  breafl,  in  a  more  or 
lefs  degree,  whofe  influence  is  invariable  and  perma- 
nent, that  Poem,  if  it  rifes  at  all  above  mediocrity, 
fhould,  methinks,  fecure  an  univerfal  reception:.— • 
The  fenfe  of  right  and  wrong,  that  innate  love  of  vir^- 
tue  and  juftice,  and  the  influence  of  confcience,  are- 
principles  which  everywhere  prevail.  Thefe  are  the" 
principles  on  which  the  Poem  of  the  Inferno  is 
founded,  and  to  w^hich  they  conftantly  refer ;  befides 
this,  it  abounds  with  powerful  appeals  to  the  ftrongeft 
of  all  human  paflions.  Terror  and  Pity ;  we  fympa- 
thize  with  the  fufferers,  as  they  are  neither  Demons 
nor  imaginary  beings,  but  our  ffellow-creatures ;  aiid^ 
the  combined  force  of  all  thefe  fentiments  and  prin- 
ciples, the  hatred  of  vice,  the  power  of  confcience, 
and  our  pity  to  the  viftims,  muft  produce  the  moft 
falutary  of  all  efFeds,  that  moral  effeO:,  which  all 
Laws  tend  to  produce,  a  juft  idea  of  the  confequence 
of  Vice  to  ourfelves.  There  is  another  reafon,  which 
gives  the  defcriptions  and  tales  of  the  Inferno  a  flill 
ftronger  influence.  The  modes  of  life  defcribed  in  the 
antient  heroic  Poets,  though  they  exhibit  all  the  fim. 
plicity  of  nature,  are  flill  remote  from  ours.  Military 
operations,  fmce  Chriftianity  prevailed,  are  not  at* 
tended  with  the  fame  dreadful  and  exterminating  effeds 
as  formerly :  The  fcenes  of  war  are  at  a  vafl  diftance 

C  3  from 


C   "   ] 

from  moft:  of  us,  and  the  whole  afped  of  it  is  changed. 
The  defcription  of  domeftic  life,  different  in  many 
refpe6ts  from  ours,  cannot  have  the  fame  effect  on  the 
heart ;  the  profpefts  of  bloody  extermination  and  cruel 
ilavery,  with  the  favage,  and  to  us,  unnatural  fenti- 
ments  with  which  they  are  often  attended,  muft  flrike 
us  indeed  with  horror ;  but  they  muft  fill  us  with 
averfion  at  the  fame  time :  at  leaft,  we  cannot  fym- 
pathize  fo  warmly  with  one  of  Homer's  Grecian 
Heroes,  as  one  of  Shakespeare's  Englijh  Barons  ; 
we  do  not  feel  for  an  Hector  as  we  do  for  an  Hot- 
spur. The  charader  of  the  latter  Hero  and  Corio- 
LANUs,  are  very  fimilar ;  yet,  I  believe,  every  Englijh- 
man  is  more  warmly  interefted  for  a  Percy,  than  any 
old  Roman  ;  nay,  of  two  beggars,  one  whereof  craves 
our  charity  in  the  accent  of  a  diftant  province,  his 
tones  are  fo  difcordant  to  the  recitative,  to  which  our 
cars  are  accuflomed,  that  it  checks  the  genial  current 
of  our  charity,  and  we  relieve  him  more  from  princi- 
ple than  inclination  j  the  other,  whofe  fupplications 
are  uttered  in  a  voice  more  unifon  with  the  vocal  har- 
mony which  has  been  long  familiar  to  us,  has  a  much 
better  chance  of  interefting  our  feelings  at  once ;  fuch 
Js  the  different  fuccefs  of  two  Poets,  one  of  which 
reprefent  antient,  the  other,  modern  manners ;  the 
modes  of  Life,  and  even  the  opinions  which  we  meet 
with  in  Dante,  are  all,  if  not  familiar  to  us,  at  leafl 
allied  to  our  own  by  a  very  near  affinity  ;  our  manners 
of  life  and  opinions  are  drawn  from  the  fame  fource, 
moft  of  his  charaders  profefs  the  fame  faith  with  us, 
and  exhibit  nearly  the  fame  manners ;  hence  we  feel 
for  them  the  more  ftrongly.  It  may  be  thought  that 
there  are  too  many  appeals  made  to  the  powerful 

emotions 


emotions  of  the  foul,  terror  and  pity.  This  arifes  princi- 
pally from  the  want  of  art  in  the  compofition  :  But  the 
variety  of  his  defcriptions  make  an  ample  compenfation 
for  the  uniformity  of  his  fubjeft.  Every  thing  that  is 
terrible  to  human  nature  is  there  brought  to  view  in 
fucceffion ;  his  corporal  fufFerings  are  variegated  with 
more  imagination,  and  defcribed  with  more  fublimity 
than  any  other  Poet,  not  excepting  Milton,  who 
drew  fome  of  his  moft  tremendous  fcenes  evidently 
from  Dante  ;  fome  are  hurried  round  in  perpetual 
motion ;  fome  are  immoveably  fixed  under  their  tor- 
ments ;  fituations  which  interefl  our  feelings  the  more 
ftrongly,  as  they  are  both  fo  ftrikingly  remote  from  the 
common  appearances  of  Life :  But  had  he  confined 
himfelf  to  corporal  fufferings  alone,  he  had  only 
deferved  to  rank  with  thofe  bards 

**  Where  pure  defcription  holds  the  place  of  fenfe." 

He  has  alfo  Ihewn  the  fufFerings  of  the  mind,  with 
a  force  of  genius  that  fhews  him  to  have  been  an  ac- 
curate and  profound  obferver  of  the  human  charafler. 
Some  deprecate  the  wrath  of  Heaven  in  effeminate 
lamentations ;  fome  fuffer  in  manly  filence ;  in  fome 
we  meet  an  exprefTion  of  malignant  envy ;  and  fome, 
ftruck  with  fhame,  endeavour  to  conceal  their  crimes 
and  their  woes  in  eternal  oblivion ;  fome  have  their 
fympathy,  their  envy,  or  their  terror  continually  kept 
awake  by  fupernatural  reprefentations  of  whatever 
was  to  happen  among  their  friends  on  earth.  The 
very  introduftion  of  a  living  man  among  them,  who, 
exempt  from  tlieir  fufferings,  views  all  their  torments 
at  leifure,  feryes  to  fublime  their  pains  for  a  time.  In 
fliort,  the  paffions  are  reprefented  as  having  their  full 
play  in  the  infernal  Regions,  and  add  new  horror  to 
C4  the 


C     24     ] 

the  fcene.  But,  not  content  to  avail  himielf  of  the  Pla- 
tonic do6lrine  of  the  paffions  and  vices  furviving  after 
death,  whofe  eifeds  he  defcribed  (fometimes  allege^ 
rically)  with  a  wonderful  force  of  fancy,  he  has  alfo 
adopted  the  Pythagorean  do£lrine  of  the  Tranfmigration 
of  Souls :  By  this  means  he  has  contrived  to  blend 
the  torments  of  the  mind  and  body  in  one  horrible 
defcription  (25)  where  the  fufferings  of  the  victims 
are  encreafed  by  their  being  (while  ftill  confcious  of 
their  fuperior  nature)  changed  into  deteilable  and 
portentous  fhapes.  This,  Mr.  Warton  thinks,  he 
borrowed  from  the  Fable  of  Circe  ;  it  probably  is 
meant  only  an  allegorical  defcription  of  the  pangs  of 
mind  arifing  from  confcioufnefs  of  having  degraded 
their  nature,  and  defeated  the  defign  of  their  being. 
Milton  has  founded  one  of  his  moft;  ftriking  fcenes 
upon  it,  (B.  X.)  and  very  much  improved  it  by  adding 
to  it  the  tantalizing  appearance  of  the  forbidden  fruit. 
He  has  alfo  entered  more  into  the  fentiment  of  the 
criminals ;  he  has  defcribed  their  feelings  more  at 
large,  and  made  their  fufferings  more  complex.  It  is 
remarkable  to  obferve  the  different  modes  of  defcribing 
future  things  adopted  by  different  Poets  in  their  ref- 
pe£tive  ages.  Homer,  and  the  Greek  Poets  give  us 
very  little  more  than  an  idea  of  corporeal  fufferings, 
except  in  the  flor)'  of  Tantalus.  Virgil  has  a^'ailed 
himfelf  of  the  Platonic  opinions  (viz  :  that  the  effefts 
of  indulged 'paffions  furvive  after  death)  to  join  to  the 
fimple  fketch  of  his  mailer,  a  detail  of  the  fufferings 
of  the  mind ;  particularly  in  his  defcription  of  the 
fcene  where  the  fhade  of  Dido  meets  ^neas,  his 
defcription  of  the  vifionary  feafl,  and  the  eternal 
dread  of  Theseus.    Dante  was  the  next  Poet  of 

charafter 


[    25    ] 

charader  who  undertook  this  fubjeft ;  the  clearer  no- 
tions of  morality  which  he  drew  from  the  Chriftian  Reli- 
gion, enabled  him  to  give  his  fancy  a  wider  range  j  and 
to  difplay  on  a  larger  fcale,  not  only  the  fufferings  of  the 
body,    but  of  the  mind.     In  Milton  their  punifli- 
ments  are  ftill  more  complicated  than  in  Dante.     It 
appears  from  this  fummary  view,    not  that  Dante 
has  extended  his  punilhments  beyond  the  ftrid  rules 
of  diftributive  juftice;  but  that  in  the  progrefs  of  fo- 
ciety  as  the  notions  of  moral  obligation  became  more 
clear,  the  powers  of  confcience  grew  more  vigorous ;" 
and  that  as  the  fcale  of  duty  grew  enlarged  from  man*s 
innate  love  to  juftice,  the  idea  of  punifhment  for  the 
refpeftive  failures  in  duty,  mufl  have  become  more 
compUcated.      From  this   idea   the    punifhments  of 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah  are  reprefented  as  more  toler- 
able than  the  doom  of  Capernaum ;  and  various  de- 
grees of  punifhment  are  mentioned  as  proportioned  to 
different  fpecies  of  delinquency.     We  are  not  there- 
fore to  attribute  that  tremendous  diftindion  of  punifh- 
ments  we  find  in    Dante,    merely  to  the  wanton 
exaggerations  of  fancy,    or   the  gloomy   reveries  of 
fuperflition  ;  but  to  an  enlarged  view  of  the  variety  of 
obligations  refulting  from  an  high  flate  of  civilization, 
and  clearer  notions  of  Religion.     That  rule  of  duty, 
to  "  do  unto  others  as  we  would  they  fhould  do  unto 
*'  us,**  in  a  flate  of  favage  life,  can  extend  itfelf  but 
to  a  few  particulars  ;  but  in  a  more  advanced  flate  of 
fociety,  though  the  rule  itfelf  remains  flill  fimple,  yet 
from  the  variety  of  relations  which  men  Hand  in  to 
each  other,  there  it  mufl  be  applied  to  a  greater  variety 
of  good  offices,  and  the  temptations  to  the  breach  of 
them  mufl  be  more  numerous. 

In 


C     ^6     ] 

In  this  endeavour  to  illuftrate  the  Poem  of  the  In 
FERNo,  and  trace  to  their  fource  the  impreflions  i 
makes  on  us,  I  have  been  obliged  to  caft  a  veil  on 
the  venerable  Father  of  Grecian  Poetry  j  yet,  I  hope 
it  will  not  be  thought  owing  to  want  of  either  Refpeft 
or  Love. — It  was  in  fome  fort  neceffary  to  fhew  Dante 
in  his  proper  light.  Homer  and  Virgil  have  all  the 
advantages  of  Nature  and  Art,  they  may  eafily  allow  to 
Dante  that  fmgle  one  of  appealing  to  Sentiments  and 
Principles  more  general,  and  more  permanent  than 
their  Poems  refer  to.  Milton,  towards  the  end  of 
his  immortal  Poem,  fhews  the  Sun  and  the  whole  Face 
of  Nature  under  an  Eclipfe,  in  order  to  give  the  greater 
efFed:  to  a  glorious  apparition  of  Angels  which  he 
here  introduces.  I  would  be  underflood  to  mean  as 
little  difrefped  to 

^^  The  folar  Lord  of  the  Poetic  Year, 


4 


as  Milton  did  to  the  great  Luminary :  But  all  I 
meant  was  to  fhade  his  excellence  a  little,  that  a  Bard 
of  a  fecondary  magnitude  might  have  an  opportunity 
cf  appearing  in  his  proper  light ;  this  was  the  more 
neceflary,  as  Dante  had  fallen  into  a  degree  of  ob- 
fcurity  far  below  his  genuine  deferts. 

Of  the  PuRGATORio,  andPARADiso,  Ifhallfpeak 
more  at  large  in  the  eflay  prefixed  to  the  former,  and 
the  notes  adjoined  to  the  latter ;  but  fhall  only  add 
here,  an  obfervation  on  the  difpofition  of  his  fubjedt 
made  by  the  Poet,  analogous  to  the  conduft  of  the 
antient  Mailers  of  the  art.  He,  like  them,  has  con- 
trived to  begin  his  Poem  in  the  moft  interefling  crifis, 
or  in  the  language  of  Milton,  "  to  haften  into  the 
"  midft  of  things.'*      The  circumftances  which,   in 

hiflorical 


C   27    ] 

hlftorical  order,  ought  to  precede,  are  thrown  into  an 
Epifode ;  the  introduftion  of  which,  (except  fome 
partial  intimations,)  is  fufpended,  till  the  Poet  finds  a 
natural  opportunity  of  inferting  it  in  the  30th  Canto 
of  the  PuRGATORio  ;  where  an  occafion  being  given 
by  the  leifure  enjoyed  by  the  Poet  on  his  arrival  at  the 
terreftriai  paradife,  when  he  meets  with  Beatrice, 
who  accounts  to  the  Aflembly  of  Celeftials,  who  attend 
her  there,  for  the  feverity  of  his  penance,  by  its  ne- 
ceflity. 


t 


HISTORICAL    ESSAY 


OF    THE 


STATE    OF   AFFAIRS 


m      THE 


THIRTEENTH  AND  FOURTEENTH  CENTURIES  i 


With  re/pea  to  the  HISTORY  of  FLORENCE; 
with  a  View  of  their  Influence  on  the  fucceeding 
Ages. 

AT Y  firft  intention  was  only  to  have  given  a  few 
Hiftorical  Illuftrations  at  the  end  of  the  Tranf- 
lation ;  but  as  the  characters  of  the  Poem  do  not  ap- 
pear in  chronological  order,  and  this  period  of  Hiflory 
is  very  interefting  in  itfelf,  I  thought  it  would  anfwer 
a  better  purpofe  to  give  a  general  idea  of  the  State  of 
Affairs  at  this  important  period,  to  which  there  are  fo 
many  allufions  made  in  the  Inferno, 

This  ^ra  prefents  a  very  Angular  fcene  to  the  view. 
The  complication  of  two  of  the  mofl  memorable  quar- 
rels that  ever  embroiled  mankind,  with  a  private  family 
feud,  gave  rife  to  that  wonderful  variety  of  charafters 
exhibited  by  the  Poet.  A  difpute  which  had  a  re- 
markable 


1 


C     ^9    ] 

markable  influence  on  the  genius,  religion,  and  politics 
of  fucceeding  ages.  The  moft  antient  and  inveterate 
of  thefe  contefts  was  the  Quarrel  between  the  Popes 
and  Emperors  of  Germany,  concerning  their  refpediive 
claims :  In  Italy  the  Emperor  claimed  the  old  prero- 
gatives of  the  C^SARS :  The  Popes  not  only  denied 
them  thefe,  but  claimed  in  their  turn,  the  moft  valu- 
able Privilege  of  imperial  power  in  Germany,  This 
was  the  power  of  difpofmg  of  Ecclefiaftical  Benefices. 
From  this  old  fource  of  difcord,  the  difpute  between  the 
Houfes  of  Anjou  and  Swabia,  for  the  Crown  of  Naples, 
took  its  origin  ;  and  by  a  fmgular  coincidence  of  cir- 
cumftances,  both  Quarrels  were  at  laft  complicated 
with  the  inteftine  Wars  of  Florence,  fome  time  before 
the  birth  of  Dante. 

It  will  be  neceifary  to  begin  with  the  Papal  and 
Imperial  Feud,  as  it  involved  the  other  two ;  and  was 
infinitely  fuperior  to  them  both  in  the  grandeur  of  its 
obje6t,  and  the  importance  of  its  confequences.  The 
others  are  only  to  be  confidered  in  the  light  of  Epifodes 
to  this  great  Drama. 

In  the  removal  of  the  feat  of  Empire  from  Rome- to 
Conjiantimple,  Italy  was  left  in  a  very  feeble  and  dif- 
traded  ftate.  For  a  long  fucceflion  of  ages,  it  was 
alternately  ravaged  by  the  Goths,  the  Huns,  and  the 
Sarazens.  While  the  Greek  Emperor  preferved  a 
feeble  Barrier  in  the  Exarchate  of  Ravenna,  which 
then  contained  a  large  trad  of  country  on  the  eaftern 
coaft  of  Italy,  the  people  of  Rome  began  to  look  up  to 
the  Pope  as  a  better  Protedtor  than  a  feeble  Viceroy  of 
a  diftant  Potentate.  Thence  his  temporal  authority 
firft  took  its  rife,  and  the  following  occafion  gave 
rapidity  to  its  progrefs. 

t3  It 


C   30   ] 

It  appears  however,  that  the  famous  difpute  about 
image-worfhip,  had  at  this  time  alienated  the  Papal 
party  fo  much  from  their  Imperial  Mailer,  that  the 
Pontiffs  of  that  day  looked  upon  the  image-breaking 
Emperor  as  little  better  than  a  Sarazen  ;  confc- 
quently  the  Romans  were  ripe  for  a  revolt,  whenever 
an  occafion  or  an  abettor  would  offer. — See  in  Gib- 
bon, Vol.  IX.  page  117.  a  curious  letter  of  Gregory 
the  Second  to  the  Emperor  Leo  ;  after  having  accufed 
the  Emperor  of  impiety  and  ignorance,  for  blaming 
image-wQrJhip^  he  tells  him  that  the  firft  elements 
of  holy  letters  are  fufficient  for  his  confufion  ;  *'  were 
you  to  enter  a  grammar-fchool,"  continues  he, 
"  and  avow  yourfelf  the  enemy  of  our  worlhip,  the 
fimple  and  pious  children  would  be  provoked  to  throw 
their  horn-books  at  your  head."  It  was  natural  for 
fuch  men  to  give  up  the  rights  of  the  empire  to  any 
image-worfhipper  who  was  able  to  feize  them,  and 
even  to  affifl  the  ufurpation. 

AisTULPHus,  the  Gothic  King  of  Lombardy,  had 
invaded  Ravenna,  and  threatened  Rome.  Gregory, 
the  third  Pontiff  of  that  name,  alarmed  at  the  dangerous 
neighbourhood,  implored  the  affiftance  of  Pepin, 
King  of  France.  Pepin  foon  expelled  the  Lombards 
from  Ravenna ;  but  difregarding  the  remonftrances 
of  the  Grf(?y^  Emperor,  to  whom  it  belonged,  he  made 
a  prefent  of  the  newly  recovered  Territory  to  Gre- 
gory, who  called  it  Romagna.  This  was  the  firft 
commencement  of  the  Papal  Grandeur ;  and  might 
have  been  of  the  Imperial,  if  Pepin,  like  Charle- 
magne, had  availed  himfelf  of  the  opportunity.  A 
league  was  made  between  the  Lombard  Prince  and 
the  Pontiff,  under  the  aufpices  of  Pepin.    Deside- 

RIUS, 


11 


[    3'     ] 

Rius,    "who  fucceeded  to  the  Crown  of  Lojiibardy, 
broke  the  League,  and  his  Holinefs,  who  had  now 
learnt   to  preferve   the   Balance    of   Power,    invited 
Charlemagne,  King  of  France,  into  Italyj  againfl 
Desiderius.     He  defeated  the  Lombard,    fent  him 
prifoner  to  France,  and  was  crowned  in  his  ftead,  not 
only  King  of  Lomhardy,  but  Emperor  of  Rome,  by  the 
confent  of  the  People  ;  a  condition  which  the  Pope  did 
not  then  think  proper  to  oppofe.     The  imperial  Crown 
gave  Charlemagne  a  pretence  to  claim  all  the  power 
of  the  old  Roman  Emperors,  even  in  the  Territories 
where  the  Pope  thought  himfelf  Lord  Paramount ; 
and  fowed  the  feeds  of  eternal  difcord  between  the  two 
Powers,     After  the  death  of  Charlemagne,  the  Pope 
feemed  to  regain  fome  privileges  which  he  had  lofL 
A  descendant  of  Charlemagne  who  fucceeded  to  the 
Empire,  contrary  to  the  right  of  the  legitimate  Heir, 
acknowledged  that  the  imperial  Crown  was  the  gift  of 
the  Pontiff  only,  and  that  he  held  every  thing  under 
him  as  Lord  Paramount.     Some  of  the  Popes  when 
they  took  the  oaths  to  the  defcendants  of  Charlemagne^ 
declared  it  was  only  voluntary ;  others  alTumed  the 
right  of  judging  Emperors,  and  fome  took  the  advan- 
tage of  family  Feuds  between  different  branches  of  the 
Carlovingian  Line,  to  extend  both  their  fpiritual  and 
temporal  Power.     They  often  took  the  Papal  Chair 
without  condefcending  to  apply  for  the  confent  of  the 
Emperors ;    they  obliged  Kings  to    take  back  their 
repudiated  wives,  and  extended  their  power,  under 
various  pretences,  to  a  length  truly  amazing.     But 
in  time,  not  only  the  great  European  Potentates  began 
to  be  jealous,  but  the  citizens  of  Rome,  who  dill  re. 
tained  fome  of  their  Republican  fpirit,   burning  to 

regain 


C   32   ] 

regain  their  ancient  liberty,  endeavoured  to  reftrain 
the  Papal  Power  within  due  bounds. — It  w^as  on  this 
occafion  that  the  Pope  invited  the  Emperor  Otho  the 
third  into  Italy ^  who  re-eftablifhed  the  Pontiff  in  his 
full  power,  and  feconded  his  moft  arrogant  claims. 
The  interefts  of  the  Pope  and  Emperor  happened  then 
to  be  the  fame.  Till  this  period  the  Roman  people 
pleading  their  immemorial  privileges,  had  a  (hare  in 
the  eledlion  of  an  Emperor,  and  it  was  certainly  the 
intereft  of  the  Candidate  to  continue  this  power  to  the 
people.  But  the  Pope  perfuaded  Otho,  that  it  would 
be  more  for  his  intereft  to  take  away  tliis  power  from 
the  infolent  multitude,  and  depend  for  proteQ:ion  on 
fpiritual  aid  alone.  Againft  fuch  a  coalition  of  inter- 
efts the  people  of  Rome  were  far  unable  to  contend. 
Accordingly  the  two  Potentates  deprived  them  of  their 
Franchife,  and  gave  the  right  of  eledion  to  the  Biftiops 
of  Mcntz,  Co/ogn,  Triers,  and  the  dukes  of  Branden- 
burgh,  the  Palatinate,  and  Saxony.  Among  thofe 
diftant  Potentates,  the  judicious  Pontiff  forefaw,  that 
he  would  have  more  influence  in  the  election  of  an 
Emperor  than  amongft  the  Republicans  of  Rome\ 
nor  did  the  event  deceive  him.  The  intereft  of  thofe 
German  Princes  fo  often  claftied  with  the  views  of  the 
Emperor,  whofe  power  was  very  limited,  that  the 
Pope  found  it  eafy  at  any  time,  to  divert  the  attention 
of  his  Rival  from  Italy  by  domeftic  difturbances  ;  and 
as  diftance  begets  reverence,  thefe  Foreigners,  from 
the  barbarous  fuperftition  of  the  times,  were  often 
more  at  the  devotion  of  their  fpiritual  Father,  than  the 
faftious  Romans  ;  who,  when  all  the  world  trembled 
at  his  fulminations,  continually  teized  him  with  vex- 
atious quarrels. 

Thus 


II 


[    33     ] 

Thus  were  the  feeds  fown  of  perpetual  diflenflond 
between  the  fpiritual  and  temporal  powers,  which 
filled  all  Italy  with  Guelfs  and  Ghibelunes  j  the 
former  attached  to  the  Papal  party,  the  latter  to  the 
Emperors.  Gregory  the  feventh,  the  famous  HiU 
debrand,  made  the  mofl  daring  exertion  of  his  power. 
He  publiflied  a  Bull,  which  deprived  all  Laymen  of 
the  power  of  invefling  or  difpofmg  of  Bifhoprics, 
This  was  ftriking  at  the  power  of  all  kings,  and  fub- 
jefting  the  Clergy,  a  potent  body  in  every  kingdom, 
to  a  foreign  jurifdidion.  The  Emperor,  Henry  the 
fourth,  took  arms  to  vindicate  his  authority.  The 
conteft  was  carried  on  with  various  fuccefs  for  three 
centuries ;  a  conteft,  which  after  having  produced 
the  moft  important  eifetls,  feems  not  yet  to  have  en- 
tirely fubfided. 

One  of  the  firft,  and  moft  illuftrious  confequences, 
was  the  liberty  of  Florence  ;  a  city  which,  under 
the  name  of  Fcefula,  made  a  confiderable  figure  in 
the  times  of  the  Roman  Republic. — It  was  an  early 
Colony  from  Rome,  encreafed  by  the  army  of  Sylla. 
Under  Brutus  it  ferved  as  a  temporary  Afylum  for 
liberty,  but  foon  followed  the  fate  of  the  empire  under 
Augujius.  The  new  fettlement  made  for  the  pur- 
pofes  of  merchandife,  from  the  mountains  of  Feefulee, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Arm,  is  diftinguifhed  by  the 
name  of  Florentia,  fo  early  as  the  times  of  Tacitus  and 
Pliny.  It  continued  to  encreafe  in  fplendor  till  the 
ruin  of  the  empire,  when  it  was  levelled  to  the  ground 
by  Toiila,  King  of  the  Goths^  and  not  rebuilt  till  the 
times  of  Charlemagne. — From  that  ara,  this  city, 
deftined  to  be  a  fecond  Athens  in  arts  and  arms, 
tamely  followed  the  fortunes  of  Italy.     It  was  firft  the 

Vol,  I,  D  prey 


C     34     ] 

prey  of  the  Sons  of  Charlemagne ;  then  of  the  Kifigg 
of  Lombardy ;  and  lailly  of  the  German  Emperors 
and  Popes  alternately,  till  in  the  year  1215,  the  fol- 
lowing memorable  incident  gave  it  an  opportunity  of 
alferting  its  independency. 

The  Buoudcbuonti  and  Uberii  were  the  two   mod: 
potent  families  in  Florence.     Next  to  thefe  in  power 
and   influence  were  the   Donati  and  Amidei.      The 
Heirefs  of  the  Family  of  Donati  was  the  moft  cele- 
brated beauty  of  that  age,  and  her  mother  had  fecretly 
defigned  her  for  a  young  nobleman  of  the  Buondehnonti 
family.     She,  however,  delayed  the  profecution  of  her 
defign,  in  hopes  of  a  favourable  crifis,  as  her  family 
was  inferior  to  that  of  BuondelmontL     In  thofe  days  of 
whimfical    punctilio   and    romantic   honour,    young 
ladies   lived    in   retirement ;    and   Buondehnonti    (as 
far  as  we  can  learn)  never  had  feen  this  celebrated 
Fair  One.     Mean  time,  unconfcious  of  his  deftiny, 
he  had  paid  his  addrefles  to  a  young  lady  of  the  family 
of  Amidei,  and  was  received  as  favourably  as  his  ex- 
alted birth,  fortune,  and  accomplifliments  deferved. 
In  a  fhort  time  the  contract  was  figned,  and  a  day  fixt 
for  his  nuptials.     The  family  of  Amidei,  to  whom  this 
lady  belonged,  were  before  allied  to  the  Uberti ;  they 
were  now  on  the  point  of  being  united  to  the  race  of 
Buonde/monii,  families  that  engrofl  all  the  power  in 
Florence.     Mortified  to  fee  her  equals  fo  far  advanced 
above  her,  the  mother  of  the  fair  Donati  fecretly 
refolved  to  make  one  effort  to  break  off  the  concerted 
alliance. — One  day,  perceiving  young  Buondehnonti, 
in  a  thoughtful  mood,  pafling  her  houfe,  fhe  came  to 
the  door,  and  invited  him  to  come  in  and  repofe  him- 
ielf.    He  obeyed  the  fummons. 
\-^  -  The 


C    35    I 

The  difcourfe  turned  on  Matrimony ;  and  the 
t)owager,  pretending  ignorance  of  the  late  tranfaftion, 
gave  him  an  obfcure  intimation  of  a  lady  who  enter- 
tained a  fecret  paffion  for  him :  at  the  fame  time  (he 
drew  a  pidure  of  her  charms,  fo  flattering,  that  it 
warmed  the  fancy  of  the  young  Baron.  Regardlefs 
of  the  confequences,  he  refolved  to  fatisfy  his  danger- 
ous curiofity,  and  eagerly  enquired,  if  it  was  poffible 
to  procure  an  interview  with  the  lady.  The  mother j 
after  fome  artful  delay,  contrived  to  give  him  an  acci- 
dental view  of  her  daughter  ;  and,  fuch  was  the  eftedt 
of  her  charms,  or  fo  feeble  was  his  attachment  to  his 
betrothed  fpoufe,  (as  intereft  alone  was  probably  con- 
cerned in  the  affair,)  that  he  foon  forgot  his  vows, 
made  a  tender  of  his  hand  and  fortune  to  his  new 
Miflirefs,  and  he  and  the  Mother,  being  both  appre- 
henlive  of  the  danger  of  delay,  perfuaded  the  young 
Lady  to  agree  to  a  private  and  immediate  folemnization 
of  the  nuptials. 

The  affair  however  could  not  long  be  kept  fecret. 
The  day  appointed  for  his  public  nuptials  approached; 
and  before  that  day  he  was  obliged  to  declare  his  fitu- 
ation.  The  family  of  Amidei  would  have  been  too 
weak  of  themfelves  to  take  vengeance  on  the  perjured 
lover ;  but  as  they  were  joined  in  affinity  to  the  Uberti, 
the  old  rivals  of  Buondelmonti,  they,  and  their  numer- 
ous dependencies,  were  immediately  fummoned  to  a 
fecret  confultation.  Here  feveral  modes  of  vengeance 
Were  propofed,  but  the  fcheme  of  *  Mofca  Lamher" 
tucci  was  preferred.  He  offered  to  wafh  away  the  (lain 
in  the  blood  of  the  aggreffor ; — and  in  an  inllant  an 
aifaflin  from  each  family  joined  him,  as  if  it  had  been 
*  Inferno,  C.  28. 

Da  a  com'" 


i:  36  ] 

a  common  caufe.  Before  day,  on  Eajier  Sundavy 
they  took  their  flations  in  the  houfe  of  one  of  the 
Aniidei,  near  the  Ponte  Vecchio,  where  they  knew 
Buondelmonti  mufl  pafs,  in  his  way  to  church.  He, 
«cs  Machaviel  obferves,  "  thinking  it  as  eafy  to  forget 
"  an  injury  as  to  break  a  contratl,'*  approached  the 
fatal  fpot  on  horfeback,  wrapt  up  in  the  mofl  unac- 
countable fecurity,  and  without  a  fmgle  attendant. 
The  confpirators  immediately  rulhed  out,  and  dif- 
patched  him  with  a  thoufand  wounds. 

This  atrocious  deed  was  the  caufe  of  the  calamities 
and  liberty  of  Florence.  The  whole  city  was  immedi- 
ately divided  into  the  factions  of  the  Buondelmonti  and 
Uberti ;  and  every  day  was  diftinguifhed  by  confpira- 
cies  and  bloodfhed,  till  Frederic  the  fecond,  who  had 
lately  fucceeded  to  the  imperial  crown,  paid  a  vifit  to 
Tufcany,  to  eftablifh  his  power  againfl  the  papal  faftion, 
o^r  Guelfs.  For  this  purpofe  he  demanded  the  aid  of 
the  Uberti  family,  as  the  mofl  powerful  in  Tufcany, 
Buondelmonti  thirfting  for  vengeance  on  their  domeftic 
enemies,  joined  the  Guelfs,  and  implored  the  alTiflance 
of  the  Pope  :  But  the  fcale  of  Frederic  preponderated, 
and  the  Buondelmo7iti  family,  with  the  whole  papal 
faction,  were  banifhed. 

.  The  Pope  was  juflly  alarmed.  Since  the  time  of 
Charle?nagne  no  Emperor  had  poflefled  fo  much 
power  in  Italy :  Befides  being  at  the  head  of  the 
Germanic  body,  Frederic  inherited  the  kingdoms  of 
Naples  and  Sicily  ;  and  thus  his  dominions  made  a  for- 
midable circle  round  the  papal  Territories  :  the  fouth- 
ern  provinces  of  Italy,  defcended  to  him  from  the  Nor' 
man  Conquerors,  who  had  made  a  fettlement  there 
upon  an  occafion  unparalleled  fince  the  heroic  tiines. 
4t  The 


r  37  ] 

The  beautiful  Provinces  of  Italy  to  the  fouth  had 
long  been  a  fubjeft  of  difpute,  after  the  divifion  of  the 
Empire,  between  the  Emperors  of  the  eaft  and  weft. 
While  both  were  too  weak  to  aflert  their  claims,  the 
Saracens  or  Arabs  gained  a  footing  in  the  country, 
and  extended  their  ravages  as  far  as  Rome.  *  At  this 
jundure  a  band  of  fixty  Norman  gentlemen  coming 
through  Apulia,  on  their  return  from  the  Holy  Land, 
arrived  at  the  town  of  Salerno,-  and  found  it  on  the 
point  of  furrendering  to  the  Muflulmen  who  inverted 
it.  The  befiegers  gave  thefe  illuftrious  Pilgrims  free 
permiilion  to  enter  the  town,  as  they  wiihed  by  in- 
creafing  their  numbers  to  complicate  their  diftrefs. 
The  Normans  reproached  the  Italians  with  their  cow- 
ardice, and  perfuading  a  few  to  join  them  in  a  fally, 
fell  upon  the  hoft  of  the  enemy  by  night,  who  forfook 
their  camp  in  a  panic,  and  fled  on  board  their  fhips. 
The  ftrangers  were  entertained  by  the  Prince  of  Sa- 
lerno, as  the  deliverers  of  the  State :  The  fame  of  the 
exploit  foon  invited  other  Normans  to  vifit  Italy,  and 
their  fervice  was  fo  acceptable  to  the  petty  princes  of 
the  country,  in  their  inceffant  quarrels,  that  thofe 
needy  adventurers  foon  obtained  both  riches  and  hon- 
our. A  trad  of  land  was  beftowed  upon  them  as  the 
reward  of  their  valour,  between  the  dukedoms  of 
Naples  and  Benevento ;  and  there,  about  the  year 
1030,  they  founded  the  fmall  Principality  of  Aver/a, 

The  colony  was  every  day  enlarged  by  troops  of 
native  Normans ;  among  the  reft  the  three  famous 
fons  of  Tancred  of  Hauteville,  Fierabras,  Deogo, 
and  Humphrey.  Shortly  after  their  arrival  the 
t  Catapan  of  Apulia,  a  Lieutenant  of  the  Greek 

*  Anno  983. 
f  A  barbarous  Greek  Name,  importing  Governor-general. 

D  3  Emperor, 


C   38  1 

Emperor,  requefted  their  afliftance  to  recover  Sicily 
from  the  Arabs.  They  accordingly  joined  the  Greeks 
in  the  invafion  of  Siri/y  ;  and,  in  the  firft  engagement 
FiERABRAS  killed  the  Saracen  general  in  fmgle  com- 
bat. It  is  probable  they  would  have  inftantly  expelled 
the  j^rabs  from  the  ifland,  but  the  perfidious  Greek 
defrauded  the  Normans  of  their  (lipulated  reward, 
which  was  the  fourth  part  of  the  prey.  They  in  re- 
turn fummoned  the  ApuHans  to  the  ftandard  of  Uberty, 
expelled  the  Catapan,  and  without  confulting  either 
Pope  or  Enfiperor,  erected  it  into  a  dukedom  for  them- 
felves :  Nor  were  the  ApuUans  averfe  to  change  a 
feeble  Defpot  for  a  gallant  Protedor. 

Scnfible  however  that  they  were  not  able  to  cope 
with  their  numerous  foes,  the  Norman  Dukes  fub- 
mitted  themfelves  as  feudatories  to  the  Pope  ;  and  re- 
nounced all  allegiance  to  the  Emperor,  whom  they 
looked  upon  as  too  diftant  to  protect  them.  The  Pope 
in  return  gave  Robert  Guiscard,  the  youngeftfon 
ofTANCRED,  a  confecrated  Banner,  and  encouraged 
him  to  attempt  the  conquell  of  Sicily.  This  they  foon 
cffe£ted ;  and  the  conquerors  obtained  from  their 
fpiritual  Father,  the  important  privilege  of  exercifmg 
themfelves  the  Legantine  Power  in  their  own  domi- 
nions. When  we  confider  that  the  Legates  were  the 
Pope's  Proconsuls  in  every  kingdom  of  Europe, 
and  every  where  curbed  the  royal  authority,  we  fhall 
underftand  the  juft  value  of  this  conceflion. 

It  was  this  Potentate,  nurft  in  the  bofom  of  the 
Church,  yet  exempt  from  her  power,  who  enabled 
Gregory  the  feventh  to  humble  the  Emperor  Henry 
the  fourth,  and  fubject  the  imperial  Sceptre  to  the 
Crojier.  The  defcendants  of  an  obfcure  Norman  ad- 
venturer,  fupported  the  pretenfions  of  the  Church 

againft 


C    39    3 

againfl  the  utmofl  efFefts  of  the  imperial  Power  with 
various  fuccefs.  The  Popes  fometimes  fet  up  Anti- 
Emperors,  and  the  Emperors  Anti-Popes,  while  the 
people  of  Italy  fometimes  joined  one,  fometimes  the 
other,  as  their  intereft  led  them  ;  for  the  fpirit  of  free- 
dom fliill  fubfifted  among  them,  and  they  wanted  (as 
Voltaire  obferves)  to  have  "  two  mafters,"  that, 
in  reality,  they  might  have  none. 

But  the  'Norman  Vaifals  of  the  Church  began  at 
laft  to  feel  their  own  power,  and  grow  intradable  j 
and  the  Pope  was  obliged  to  call  in  another  Potentate 
to  preferve  the  balance  of  Italy :  he  had  firft  called  in 
the  French  and  Germans  againft  the  Lombards ;  then 
the   Norman  Potentates   were  fet  up  to  balance  the 
power  of  the  Germans  ;  but  now  when  the  Crown  of 
Sicily  was  left  without  a  male  Heir,  the  Barons  of 
Naples  and  Sicily  favoured  the  Pretenfions  of  Tan- 
CRED,  natural  fon  to  William  the  laft  King  of  the 
Norman  line ;    an  enterprifmg  young  Prince,   whofe 
exaltation  was  a  caufe  of  terror  to  the  Pope. — To 
prevent  his  fuccefs.    Pope  Celestine  the  third,  a 
Pontiff  rather  remarkable  for  cunning,  than  political 
fagacity,  encouraged  young  Henry,  Duke  of  Swabia, 
fon  to   the  Emperor  Barbarossa,  to  marry  Con- 
STANTIA,  *  a  profeft  Nun,  the  only  legitimate  child  of 
William.     She  was  obliged  to  relinquifli  her  Mona- 
ftery,  and  the  Pope  gave  her  abfolution  for  the  breach 
of  her  vow :  the  condition   of  this  marriage  was  the 
reftitution  of  all  the  papal  Domain  which  the  Normans 
had  feized ;  and  the  fruit  of  the  alliance  was  a  Son, 
who  in  right  of  his  Mother  fucceeded  to  the  kingdom 
of  Naplei  and  Sicily ;  and  by  the  intereft  of  the  houfe 

*  Anno  1 193. 

P4  of 


r  40  1 

of  Swabia,  (to  which  he  was  heir,)  procured  the  Im- 
perial Crown  by  the  name  of  Frederic  the  fccond. — 
In  the  year  12 14,  he  was  invelled  with  the  imperial 
Robes  ;  and  being  already  heir  of  Naples,  his  domi- 
nions furrounded  the  papacy  on  all  fides. 

But,  as  Frldhric  was  under  ape  at  the  death  of 
his  Father,  he  had  many  powerful  competitors  for  the 
Empire ;  and  was  kept  out  of  it  during  fome  time. 
This  was  owing  partly  to  the  intrigues  cf  the  Pope,  and 
partly  to  the  jealoufy  of  the  Gcman  Electors,  who 
dreaded  the  increafmg  power  of  the  family  of  Suabia  j 
of  which,  as  well  as  of  the  Norman  race,  Frederic 
was  the  fole  reprefentative  :  Otho  was  therefore  elec- 
ted Emperor,  after  a  long  competition  with  Philip 
the  reigning  duke  of  Swabia,  though  of  a  younger 
branch  than  Frederic.  Otho  was  duke  of  Saxony, 
and  was  elected  in  1208. 

At  firft  he  exprefled  unbounded  gratitude  to  the 
I*ope  for  his  afliflance ;  but  afterwards  encouraged 
by  the  nonage  of  Frederic,  he  aiferted  the  imperial 
claims  to  the  Norman  conquefts  in  Naples  and  Sidly, 
and  aftually  marched  an  army  to  the  borders  of 
Frederic's  dominions.  The  Pope*  enraged  at  what 
he  accounted  the  ingratitude  of  Otho,  immediately 
excommunicated  him ;  and  even  prevailed  upon  the 
Princes  of  Germany  to  depofe  him ;  having  threat- 
ened them  with  the  fpiritual  confequences  of  their 
perjury  to  Frederic,  to  whom  they  had  fwom  fealty 
while  in  his  cradle :  fuch  difturbances  being  raifed 
in  Germany  by  the  fentence  of  excommunication,  that 
Otho  was  obliged  to  quit  Apulia ;  but  he  ai*rived 
too  late  in  Germany  to  prevent  his  depofition. 

The  Pope,  on  his  affuming  the  patronage  of  Fre- 

*  Innocent  3d. 

DERIC, 


!l 


C     41     ] 

der'ic,  had  infifted  on  his  renouncing  fome  privileges 
with  refpeft  to  inveftitures  in  Naples  and  Sicily^  which 
had  been  granted  to  the  Norman  kings  by  the  Papal 
See  on  account  of  paft  fervices  ;  the  moft  remarkable 
was,  that  the  bifhops  were  to  be  elefted  by  the  Clergy 
without  the  interference  of  the  Pope.  This,  however. 
Innocent  prevailed  upon  Constantia  in  the  name 
of  Frederic  to  refcind,  with  many  others  in  which 
the  old  Norman  independency  was  deeply  involved. 
He  had  alfo  prevailed  upon  Frederic  on  condition  of 
his  acquiring  the  Empire  by  his  means,  to  enter  into 
a  folemn  engagement  that  he  would  attempt  the  con- 
queft  of  Palejiine. 

Whatever  were  the  views  of  Innocent,  who  died 
before  they  could  be  thoroughly  difclofed,  his  fuccelTor 
Honorius  the  Third,  contrived  to  engage  the  ambition 
of  Frederic  in  this  attempt.  He  propofed  to  the 
Emperor  the  acquifition  of  a  title  to  the  kingdom  of 
"Jerufalem  by  a  marriage  with  Iole  or  Viol  ante, 
daughter  to  John  de  Brienne,  to  whom  that  title  had 
defcended :  Honorius  died  ftiortly  after  he  had  ac- 
complilhed  this  alliance,  and  left  the  fruits  of  it  to  be 
reaped  by  Gregory  the  ninth ;  who  reprefented  to 
him  the  obligation  he  lay  under  to  defend  this  kingdom 
for  his  pofterity,  and  finally  perfuaded  him  to  prepare 
for  the  expedition.  Frederic,  however,  on  her  elec- 
tion, began  to  repent  of  his  engagement,  being  confcious 
how  much  his  hereditary  dominions  in  Italy  and  Sicily 
were  expofed  to  the  machinations  of  an  ambitious 
Pontiff,  who  having  firft  conferred  the  kingdom  on 
his  Norman  anceftors,  "  his  liberal  fenfe  and  know- 
ledge taught  him  to  defpife  the  phantoms  of  fuper- 
ftition,  and  the  crowns  of  Asia  ;  he  no  longer  en- 
tertained 


T    -42     ] 

tertained   the*  fame   reverence   for  the  fucceflbrs 
Innocent,  and  his  ambition  was  occupied  by  the  re- 
ftoration  of  the  Italian  monarchy,   from  Sicily  to  the 
Alps.     But  the  fuccefs   of  this  projed  would  have 
reduced  the  Popes  to  their  primitive  fimplicity  ;  and 
after  the  delays  and  excufes  of  twelve  years,  Gregory 
at  laft  urged  the  Emperor  with  entreaties  and  threats, 
to  fix  the  time  and  place  for  his  departure  for  Pales- 
tine :    fuch  was  his  dread  of  the  thunders  of  the 
Vatican^    he  was   at   laft  obliged  to  aflemble  and  pre- 
pare in  the  harbours  of  Sicily  and  Apulia^  a  fleet  of 
one  hundred  gallies,   and  one  hundred  veflels  that 
"were  framed  to  tranfport  and  land  two  thoufand  five 
hundred   knights,   with   their   numerous   attendants. 
His   vaflals  of  Naples  and  Germany  formed  a  pow- 
erful army,  and  the  numbers  of  Englijh  crufaders, 
are  magnified  to  fixty  thoufand  by  the  report  of  fame ; 
but  the  inevitable  or  affected  flownefs  of  thefe  mighty 
preparations,  confumed  the  ftrength  and  provifions  of 
the  more  indigent  pilgrims  ;  the  multitudes  were  thin- 
ned by  ficknefs  and  defertion,  and  the  fultry  fummers 
of  Calabria^    anticipated  the   mifchiefs   of  a  Syrian 
campaign. 

'  "  At  length  the  Emperor  hoifted  fail  at  Brundufium^ 
"with  a  fleet  and  army  of  forty  thoufand  men,  but  he 
kept  the  fea  no  more  than  three  days  ;  and  his  hafty 
retreat,  which  was  afcribed  by  his  friends  to  a  grievous 
:  indifpofition,  was  accufed  by  his  aiemies  as  a  volun- 
tary and  obftinate  difobedience ;  for  fufpending  his 
vow  he  was  excommunicated  by  Gregory,  when  he 
•embarked  again  to  accomplifh  his  vow,  the  Pope 
[excommunicated  him  afrefh,  for  prefuming  to  fet  fail 
rithout  making  due  fubmilTion,  and  being  reconciled 

to 


C  43   D 

to  the  church.  This  plainly  ihewed  the  Pope's  vie\t^Sj 
he  fhortly  after  threw  off  the  maik  ;  and  not  being 
afraid  of  the  Emperor's  power  in  his  abfence,  publifh- 
ed  a  crufade  againil  him  in  Italy.  John  de  Brienne, 
the  Emperor's  father-in-law,  was  made  the  inftrument 
in  this  quarrel,  as  the  Pope  had  perfuaded  him,  that 
Frederic  who  had  promifed  to  reftore  the  kingdom  of 
Jerufalem  to  him  during  his  life,  had  refolved  to  break 
his  promife ;  his  influence  joined  with  the  Pope's, 
foon  fpread  the  flames  of  civil  difcord  over  all  Italy : 
The  Emperor's  friends  did  not  tamely  give  up  his 
caufe,  but  in  Rome  itfelf  withftood  the  Papal 
Faftlon  with  great  fpirit  and  effe£t ;  yet  in  Milan, 
the  Parti zans  of  Gregory  got  fo  far  the  fuperiority, 
that  In  a  fliort  time  all  Lombardy  was  loft.  This 
was  not  thought  fufficient  by  the  Pontifi\,  who  refolved 
to  raife  opponents  to  the  Emperor  in  every  quarter ; 
he  fent  inftruftions  to  the  Clergy  and  Military 
orders  of  Palejiine^  to  renounce  all  communion  with 
and  difpute  his  commands.  He  had  by  this  time 
made  an  eafy  conqueft  of  Palejiine ;  yet  in  his  own 
kingdom  he  was  obliged  to  confent  that  the  orders  of 
the  camp  fiiould  be  iifued  in  the  name  of  God,  and 
of  the  Chrijlian  Republic  ;  when  he  entered  Jerufalem 
in  triumph,  he  was  obliged  to  take  the  crown  from 
the  altar  of  the  holy  Sepulchre  with  his  own  hand, 
and  place  it  on  his  head  ;  for  no  Prieft  would  perform^ 
the  office ;  but  the  Patriarch  of  Jerufalem  caft  an 
interdiO:  on  the  church  which  his  prefence  had  pro- 
faned. The  knights  Hofpitallers  and  Templars  in- 
formed the  Sultan  how  eafily  Frederic  could  be  fur- 
prized  and  flain,  while  he  bathed  in  the  river  Jordan  ; 
but  the  Sultan,  (MeladinJ  honourably  fent  their 
letters    to  Frederic,    whofe    character   he   highly 

efteemed* 


C     44     ] 


efteemed.  In  fuch  a  ftate  of  Fanaticifm  and  Fa6i:ioTf, 
victory  might  be  fuppofed  to  be  hopelefs,  and  defence 
difficult ;  but  the  conclufion  of  an  advantageous  peace 
may  be  imputed  to  the  difcord  of  the  Mahometans, 
and  their  perfonal  regard  to  the  charafter  of  their 
enemy:  Frederic  is  accufed  by  the  Guelf  writers 
of  the  times,  of  maintaining  with  the  Mifcreants  an 
intercourfe  of  hofpitality  and  friendfliip  unworthy  of 
a  chrifBan ;  of  defpifmg  the  barrennefs  of  the  Holy 
Land  ;  and  of  indulging  a  profane  thought,  that  if 
Jehovah  had  feen  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  he  never 
would  have  felefted  Palejhine  for  the  inheritance  of 
his  chofen  people :  He  made  an  advantageous  peace 
with  the  S\ikan,  and  accompliihed  every  rational  pur- 
pofe  of  a  crufade,  by  obtaining  the  city  for  the 
Latins,  who  were  to  inhabit  and  fortify  it ;  and  to 
the  Mahometans,  permiffion  to  vifit  the  Mosque,  or 
Temple,  from  whence  Mahomet  was  fuppofed  to  have 
afcended  to  heaven  *.**  • 

The  Pope  provoked  at  his  making  a  peace  with  the 
Infidels  on  any  terms,  excommunicated  him  anew, 
abfolved  his  fubjecls  from  their  allegismce ;  and  for- 
bade all,  on  pain  of  excommunication,  to  acknowledge 
or  obey  him  as  Emperor.  But  Frederic  being  re- 
inforced from  Germany,  foon  recovered  all  that  the 
Pope  had  feized  in  Apulia  and  Naples ;  put  feveral 
of  the  Neapolitan  Lords  to  death  who  had  revolted 
from  him,  and  entering  the  territories  of  the  church 
deftroyed  all  before  him  with  fire  and  fword. 

He  was,  however,  fhortly  after  obliged  to  make 
peace,  greatly  to  the  advantage  of  the  church ;  to 
recognize  its  authority ;  to  reftore  the  Prelates  who 

*  Gibbon,  vol.  ii.  p.  140.  Oft.  Edit,  and  the  authorities 
quoted  there. 

had 


a 


r  45  ] 

had  been  deprived  for  their  adherence  to  the  Pope, 
and  to  make  reflitution  for  ail  damages  committed  in 
the  Papal  dominions. 

Their  reconcihation  however,  was  far  from  being 
cordial.  It  is  not  certain  that  the  Pope  incited  Henry 
the  fon  of  Frederic,  to  rebel  againft  his  father,  on 
his  invafion  of  Lombardy  to  punifh  the  rebellious 
Milanese.  But  it  is  beyond  difpute,  that  he  claimed 
as  the  property  of  the  church,  the  ifland  of  Sardi- 
nia ;  which  Frederic  had  configned  to  his  natural 
fon  Enzius  as  Governor :  On  the  denial  of  this  un- 
founded claim,  the  Pope  excommunicated  the  Em- 
peror anew,  and  declared  war  againft  him  as  a  facri- 
legious  perfon.  Frederic  marched  an  army  to 
Rome,  and  defeated  the  Papal  forces  in  a  bloody 
battle ;  but  had  not  forces  fufficient  to  purfue  his  con- 
quefts  at  that  time  from  the  defective  authority  of  all 
Potentates  in  feudal  times. 

The  Pope  refolved  to  try  another  mode  to  fubdue 
his  antagonift ;  he  called  a  general  council,  in  order 
to  arm  the  whole  Chriftian  world  againft  his  enemy. 
Frederic  knowing  or  fufpeding  his  intent,  era- 
ployed  his  fon  Enzius  in  alliance  with  the  Pifans, 
who  were  Ghibellines,  to  intercept  the  foreign 
bifhops,  who  were  expected  by  fea  from  Genoa 
where  they  were  to  aflemble,  and  to  fend  them  in 
chains  to  Naples.  The  Genoefe  who  were  Guei.fs, 
had  engaged  to  convey  the  biftiops  to  Rome  in  fafety, 
and  fitted  out  a  large  navy  for  the  purpofe ;  they, 
were  met  and  defeated  by  Enzius,  who  feized  a  great 
number  of  French,  English,  Scotch,  and  Ita- 
lian bifhops,  fome  of  whom  he  drowned,  as  the 
moft  inveterate  enemies  to  the  Emperor  ;  and,  others 
he  fent  to  Frederic,  who  kept  them  prifoners  for  life. 

Gregory 


t     4<J     ] 

Gregory  did  not  long  fumve  this  intelligttirt^ 
and  Frederic  felicitated  himfeli  in  having  goi  rid 
of  his  antagonift  ;  his  immediate  fucceflbr  Celestine 
the  fourth  did  not  live  long,  but  Innocent  the  fourth 
trod  exactly  in  the  paths  of  Grgeory.  He  did  not 
fear  to  engage  the  Emperor  either  with  fpiritual  or 
fecular  arms  ;  and  though  inferior  in  the  latter  conteft, 
yet  in  the  former,  he  found  means  to  furamons  a 
general  council,  where  he  had  influence  enough  to 
have  Frederic  depofed :  The  fecular  Princes,  how- 
ever, of  Germany,  protefted  againft  the  fentence,  and 
obfei*ved  with  juilice,  that  the  allegations  againft  the 
Emperor  had  not  been  proved,  and  that  no  teftimony 
had  been  admitted  but  that  of  his  known  and  invete- 
rate enemies. 

At  the  head  of  his  German  Powers,  Frederic 
marched  into  Apulia,  to  chaftife  a  new  rebellion ; 
which,  at  the  infligation  of  the  clerg)',  had  broken  out 
there,  and  to  revenge  himfelf  upon  the  Pope,  but  he 
was  taken  ill,  and  died  at  the  caftle  of  Fiorentino. 

Without  entering  into  the  chara£lers  of  thefe  two 
celebrated  antagonifls,  there  appears  one  prefumptive 
proof  that  the  fentence  of  the  Pope  was  unjuft  :  Louis 
the  Ninth,  king  of  France,  a  prince  celebrated  through 
the  known  world  for  the  juflice  of  his  decifions,  offered 
his  fervice  as  umpire  between  thefe  enraged  Potentates. 
Frederic  chearfuliy  acceded;  but  the  Pope  obfti- 
nately  refufed  to  fubmit  his  caufe  to  the  award  of  a 
layman.  It  is  remarkable  that  one  of  his  charges 
againft  Frederic  is,  his  havhig  Ecclefiaftics  tried  by  a 
fecular  judge. 

He  was  fucceeded  in  the  throne  of  Naples  by  his 
fon  Conrad  ;  the  Empire,  after  a  long  interregnum, 

having 


C    47     ] 

having  gone  into  another  family  *,  with  his  father's 
hereditary  kingdom,  he  inherited  his  father's  fpirit  and 
the  papal  animofity ;  the  Pope  under  pretence  that  he 
had  been  excommunicated,  but  in  reality  becaufe  he 
would  not  fubmit  to  the  papal  ufurpations  in  regard 
to  inveftitures,  aflumed  the  right  of  difpofmg  of  the 
kingdom  of  Naples  to  Charles  of  Anjou,  brother  to 
Louis  the  ninth  of  France.  The  fequel  of  this  tragical 
hiftory,  and  that  of  his  fon,  {hall  be  given  w^hen  we 
refume  the  account  of  the  affairs  of  Florence,  as  with 
them  it  is  intimately  conneQ:ed. 

It  appears  from  this  detail,  that  in  feveral  States  of 
Italy,  particularly  at  Rome,  a  fpirit  of  independence 
flill  furvived  ;  of  this  the  Popes  availed  themfelves, 
and  in  every  city  eftablilhed  a  Guelf  Fadlion  againfl: 
the  Ghibellines,  or  Imperialifls  ;  but  their  power  over 
the  confciences  of  men  enabled  them  to  fpread  their 
influence  flill  further.  By  this  powerful  engine  the 
Pope  could  kindle  the  flames  of  Rebellion  againfl  his 
Antagonifl,  over  all  his  vaft  dominions ;  and  confe- 
crate  Sedition  by  the  name  of  Religion.  When  Fre- 
deric was  on  the  point  of  reducing  every  thing  to 
fubjedlion  on  the  banks  of  the  Tyber,  the  Standard 
of  Rebellion  was  fuddenly  raifed  on  the  fhores  of  the 
Rhine,  and  he  was  obliged  to  relinquifli  the  prize 
almoft  in  reach.  This  was  the  tantaUzing  fituation 
of  almoft  all  the  German  Emperors,  but  the  intrigues 
of  the  Pope  were  in  the  end  favourable  to  the  caufe 
of  Liberty. — We  have  feen  before  how  the  Imperial 
Faftion  got  the  advantage  at  Florence,  and  banifhed' 
the  Bmndelmonte  Family,  with  the  whole  Papal  Fac- 
tion.    But  on  the  death  of  Frederic  a  new  family 

*  Of  Hapfburg. 

declined, 


r  48  3 

came  to  the  Imperial  Throne,  and  the  Suabian  Race 
declined ;  the  neutral  party  at  Florence  took  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  favourable  juncture,  and  propofed  a 
coalition  of  parties ;  the  propofal  was  agreed  to,  the 
banillicd  Guclfs  were  recalled,  and  an  aft  palled  of 
general  amnelty.  Then  by  a  general  agreement,  the 
conflitution  was  new  modelled. — The  city  was  divided 
into  fix  dillrifts,  governed  by  officers  annually  cho- 
fen ;  two  Judges  were  appointed  for  criminal  caufes, 
and  the  whole  defenfive  force  of  the  City  and  Country 
was  divided  into  ninety-fix  regiments,  whofe  fuperior 
officers  were  alfo  changed  annually: — ^I'hefe  were 
foon  fit  for  fervice.  The  influence  of  the  Guelfs  pre- 
vailed, and  extended  their  Conquefts  over  Pijloiay 
Siena^  and  Arezzo^  which  had  been  under  the  im- 
perial Faction.  In  confequence  of  thefe  advantages 
the  Guelfs  began  to  grow  haughty,  and  the  Ghibellines 
envious ;  their  power  had  fallen  very  low,  for  they 
were  looked  upon  all  over  Tufcany  as  the  abettors  of 
Tramontane  Tyranny.  But  an  opportunity  foon 
offered  of  gaining  the  afcendant :  Conrad,  who  died 
fuddenly,  not  without  fufpicion  of  poifon,  had  left  an 
infant  fon,  Conradin,  the  unfortunate  heirof  iV(7/)/(?j, 
under  the  tuition  of  Manfred,  or  Manfroy,  a  na- 
tural fon  to  Frederic  the  fecond.  The  Empire  being 
elective  had  now  gone  into  another  family,  and  Con- 
radin had  nothing  left  but  his  hereditary  dominion 
of  Suabia,  and  the  title  to  the  kingdom  of  Naples. 
But  Manfred,  his  Guardian,  took  advantage  of  his 
Pupil's  non-age,  ufurped  the  Crown  of  Sicily,  and 
inheriting  the  inveterate  hatred  of  the  Houfe  of  Suabia 
againfl  the  Pope,  he  renewed  his  claim  to  the  lands 
which  the  Emperor  Henry  the  fixth  had  refigned  to 
the  Pope  on  his  marriage  with  Constance.     At  this 

crifis 


[     49     1 

crifis  Manfred  was  In  amis  agalnfl;  the  Pope,  and  re- 
animated the  hopes  of  the  Ghibellines  *  all  over  Italy* 
The  Imperial  Fadion  in  Florence,  difcountenanced  and 
robbed  of  their  fhare  in  the  Government,  applied  to 
him  for  affiftance.  The  Counfel  was  given  by  f  Fa- 
rinata  Uberti,  the  inveterate  Enemy  of  the  Buondel- 
monies  race ;  but  their  practices  were  difcovered  by 
the  vigilance  of  the  magiftrates,  and  the  delinquents 
cited  before  the  counfel.  The  Uberti  took  arms  and 
fortified  their  houfes :  But  the  enraged  populace  at- 
tached to  the  Guelfs  ;  and  to  Liberty,  took  the  part  of 
their  benefadors,  and  the  Ghibellines  were  obliged  to 
feek  an  afylum  at  5/>/2^.— This  Republic  had  revolted 
from  the  confederacy  of  the  Florentines,  and  received 
the  exiles  readily.  A  Courier  was  inftantly  difpatched 
to  the  borders  of  Romagna.  That  fame  night  a  large 
detachment  fet  out  for  Siena,  and  by  forced  marches 
reached  it  before  day.  Next  morning  a  Spy,  in  the 
habit  of  a  Francifcan,  waited  on  the  Magiftrates  at 
Florence,  with  a  forged  Letter,  from  the  GuelfYdidiion 
at  Siena  ;  containing  apromife  to  open  the  gate,  if  the 
Florentines  would  fend  a  body  of  troops  at  an  appointed 
hour.  The  magiftrates,  not  fufpeding  what  had 
paffed  in  the  night,  fell  into  the  fnare,  and  imme- 
diately difpatched  the  flower  of  thdr  Militia  to  fecond 
the  revolt  of  the  Sienefe.  But  as  they  marched  along 
in  full  fecurity,  they  were  fuddenly  attacked  by  Fari- 
nafa,  at  the  head  of  a  detachment  of  Manfred's 
Forces :    The  habits  of  difcipline  however  preferved 

*  Though  the  imperial  power  had  now  fallen  very  low,  feveral 
Princes  in  Italy  kept  up  the  name  of  Ghibellines,  or  Imperia- 
lists, in  order  to  eftabhfh  their  own  power,  and  witbftand  the 
papal  encroachment. 

f  See  Inferno,  C.  x. 

Vol.  L  E  them 


C    5°    ] 

tliem  from  the  efFe£ls  of  furprize,  they  formed  imme- 
diately, and  a  bloody  and  obflinate  adion  enfued: 
But  in  the  heat  of  the  Conflid,  Bocca  *,  the  head 
of  the  Abati  Family,  a  Guelf,  having  been  gained 
over  by  the  pradlices  of  Uberti,  cut  off  the  hand  of 
the  Florentine  Standard-bearer:  The  Standard  fell, 
the  Florentines  were  thrown  into  confufion ;  the  Ghi- 
bellines  took  advantage  of  the  moment  of  diforder^ 
broke  into  the  line  of  the  Florentines,  and  drove  therrv 
off  the  Field,  with  a  prodigious  flaughter  of  the  No- 
bility and  Gentry. 

The  vidorious  party,  ftiil  burning  with  animofity, 
began  to  entertain  the  mofl  fanguinary  Counfels :  It 
was  even  propofed  to  exterminate  the  Papal  Faction, 
and  level  their  native  city  to  the  ground.  But  Fari- 
nata,  whofe  influence  next  to  Manfred's  was  greateft, 
generoully  oppofed  the  moll  cruel  defign.  He  de- 
clared that  his  motive  in  taking  arms  was  only  to 
fecure  a  retreat  to  his  native  place,  not  to  be  inftru- 
mental  in  its  deftruclion.  His  counfel  prevailed. 
The  Ghibeiruies  entered  the  city  in  triumph,  and  the 
Guelfs  were  again  expelled. 

Tlie  Florentine  Guelfs  firft  took  refuge  at  Bologna, 
and  afterwards  at  Parma,  where  they  joined  the  papal 
Faction  ;  and  in  an  engagement  with  the  Imperialills, 
their  valour  turned  the  fcale  in  favour  of  the  Parme- 
fans.  Meantime  the  Pope  being  hard  preffed  by 
Manfred,  who  had  ufurped  the  Crown  from  his 
Nephew,  and  looking  upon  himfelf  as  Lord  Para- 
mount of  Sicily,  deprived  the  orphan  Conradin  of  his 
title  to  the  Crown,  which  exceeded  his  power  as  Lord 
Paramount,    and  gave  the  invefliture  to  Charles  of 

*  Inferno,  Canto  32. 

Anjou, 


[    5'     3 

Anjou,  brother  to  that  king  of  France  who  is  com- 
monly called  St.  Louis.  The  Florentine  exiles  took 
advantage  of  this  favourable  crifis,  and  offered  their 
fervice  to  the  Pope,  v^^ho  received  them  with  joy* 
Meantime,  Charles  of  Anjou  failed  for  Italy,  with  a 
numerous  Fleet,  and  dextroufly  efcaping  the  Gallies 
of  Manfred,  which  lay  in  wait  for  him,  arrived  at 
OJlia ;  where  he  was  received  by  the  Romans  as  the 
deliverer  of  their  country,  and  inftantly  marced  againft 
the  invader.  Mani^red  had  a  large  detachment  un- 
der Buoso  Di  DuERA,  at  a  defile  where  the  French 
were  obliged  to  pafs  ;  but  Duera,  *  as  it  is  fuppofed, 
having  been  corrupted  by  Anjou,  looked  tamely  on, 
and  let  him  purfue  his  march.  Struck  with  the  rapid 
advances  made  by  his  rival,  difcouraged  by  the  ap- 
jpearance  of  treachery,  and  perhaps  ftung.by  the  me- 
mory of  his  perfidy,  to  his  benefador  Conrad, 
Manfred  fent  ambaifadors  with  overtures  of  peace  ; 
but  they  were  rejeded  with  fcorn,  and  the  ufurper 
refolved  to  make  a  defperate  ftand  at  the  pafs  of 
Coperano. — Next  to  Manfred,  the  feccnd  in  com- 
mand among  the  Ghibellines,  was  the  Marquis  de 
Caserta,  and  on  his  advice  with  refpett  to  military 
affairs,  Manfred  chiefly  relied ;  but  Caserta  hav- 
ing long  fufpefted  a  criminal  commerce  between  his 
wife  and  Manfred,  fecretly  vowed  vengeance,  and 
took  this  opportunity  of  putting  his  defign  in  praftice. 
At  a  council  of  war,  called  before  the  engagement, 
he  advifed  Manfred  to  let  part  of  the  Guelfs  pafs, 
and  attack  them  at  advantage  when  divided.  On  this 
counfel  Manfred  implicitly  relied,  and  ordered  the 
defile  to  be  left  open  till  part  had  paffed,  but  the  im- 

*  Inferno,  C.  32.*— Villani  Chron.  Florcnt.  S.  7.  C.  27. 

F  2  petuofity 


C    5^    ] 

petuofity  of  the  French  broke  all  his  meafures :  The 
army  of  Anjou  poured  in  like  an  inundation,  and 
purfued  the  GhibcUines  with  a  continued  flaughter  for 
feveral  miles.  Manfred,  with  the  broken  remains 
of  his  army,  retreated  to  the  plains  of  Benevc?itum, 
whither  he  was  purfued  by  Anjou  with  fuch  precipi* 
tation,  that  he  neglected  to  fecure  the  country  behind 
him.  Manfred  immediately  perceived  the  overfight 
of  the  enemy,  and  availing  himfelf  of  his  fuperior 
knowledge  of  the  country,  furrounded  the  whole  army 
of  Anjou  at  Tagliacezzo ;  there  he  could  have  compel- 
led them  by  famine  to  come  into  terms,  but,  hke 
PoMPEY,  he  rafhly  refolved  on  battle,  and  fell  in  the 
a£i:ion  j  a  fate  too  mild  and  honourable  for  his  perfidy 
and  ufurpation.  He  is  alfo  charged  with  parricide  by 
fome  hiftorians. 

Charles  of  Anjou  immediately  took  pofTeffion  of 
Naples,  and  was  crowned  by  the  Pope.  This  was 
looked  upon  as  the  fignal  for  dellrudion  to  the  G/jL 
bell'me  party  in  Florence.  They  faw  their  ruin  ap- 
proaching, and  refolved,  if  poflible,  to  gain  the  peo- 
ple to  their  fide,  by  a  (hew  of  patriotifm.  They  im. 
mediately  recalled  fome  of  the  Guelf  fadtion  from 
Bologna,  and  gave  them  a  fhare  in  the  government. 
Bologna  was  already  famous  as  a  feat  of  learning ;  and 
from  it  there  were  two  legiflators  chofen  to  fettle  the 
commonwealth  ;  one  a  Guelf,  and  the  other  a  Ghibel' 
line,  who  by  the  joint  aifent  of  all,  were  mdidG  Pode/las 
at  Florence ;  their  names  were  *  Catalano  de  Ma- 
LASOTTE,  and  Loderingo  di  Leandolo.  They  had 
a  council  of  thirty-fix  formed  out  of  both  fa£tions  to 
allift  them,   and  made  fome  good  regulations  j  but 

*  See  Inferno,  C.  23. 

what 


\ 


C    53    ] 

what  ftiewed  the  futility  of  their  patriotic  pretences, 
was  their  connivance  at  the  introduction  of  a  band  of 
Ger?nan  mercenaries,  by  the  GbibelHnes,  under  pre- 
tence of  protecting  the  State.  The  firft  occafion  of 
difcontent  was  an  exorbitant  tax  which  they  attempted 
to  levy  on  the  people,  to  pay  thefe  mercenaries.  This 
raifed  a  clamour  againfl;  the  new  council ;  the  popu- 
lace took  arms  and  furr@unded  the  Senate,  and  Guido 
DE  Novel Lo,  the  head  of  the  Ghibelline  faftion, 
feized  with  an  unaccountable  panic,  fled  out  of  the 
neareft  gate  with  his  whole  body  of  incendiaries,  and 
all  the  Ghibelline  fadion.  Next  day,  aftonifhed  at 
their  own  folly,  they  endeavoured  to  return,  but 
found  the  attempt  too  late — the  Guelfs  had  refumed 
the  Government,  and  chofen  Charles  of  Anjou^ 
vicar  of  Tiifcany ;  but  the  citizens,  tired  of  difcord, 
refolved  to  procure  a  coalition  of  parties,  and  by  their 
influence,  all  the  exiles  were  invited  to  return ;  but 
the  GhibelUnes  ftill  remembered  their  exile,  and  the 
Guelfs  their  oppreffion«. 

Meantime  the  news  arrived  that  Conradin,  the 
heir  of  Sicily  and  Naples,  was  on  his  way  from  Germa. 
ny,  with  a  numerous  army,  to  regain  his  Crown  from 
Charles  of  Anjou.  This  intelligence  re-animated 
the  GhibelUnes,  who  hoped,  by  the  afliftance  of  Con- 
*  RADiN,  to  gain  the  afcendancy.-r-The  Guelfs  were  no 
lefs  depreflfed  by  fear,  and  when  they  heard  that 
Conradin  intended  to  dired  his  march  through  Tuf- 
cany^  they  applied  to  his  rival  for  afflftance,  The 
forces  of  Anjou  arrived  at  Florence  before  the  army  of 
Conradin,  and  the  GhibelUnes^  who  well  knew  their 
demerits  with  the  people,  once  more  thought  proper 
to  r^linquifli  their  country.     The  prefages  of  the  Ghi- 

E  3  bellines 


[    54    ] 

bellines  were  not  vain ;  the  gallant  Conradin,  who, 
though  but  fifteen  years  of  age,  had  led  an  army  from 
Germany  to  claim  his  birth  right,  was  met  by  Anjou, 
at  St.  Vakntine*s,  near  Naples.  An  aged  French  knight, 
named  Alard,  on  his  return  from  the  Holy  Land, 
had  joined  the  army  oi  Anjou,  and  Charlls  relying 
on  his  military  experience,  afked  his  advice  with  ref- 
pe£t  to  the  difpofition  of  his  forces.  The  veteran 
counfelled  him  to  conceal  a  large  body  of  troops  in  an 
ambufcade,  and  to  fend  a  detachment  before,  led  by 
a  Knight,  in  the  drefs  and  arms  of  Anjou  ;  and,  that 
if  this  body  were  defeated,  the  partial  lofs  would  fe- 
cure  him  the  vi£lor)\  Anjou  followed  his  advice, 
and  caufmg  one  Cozance,  a  French  Knight,  to  put 
on  his  arms,  fent  him  to  meet  the  enemy  at  the  head 
of  a  large  detachment.  The  event  was  what  *  Alard 
had  foretold  ;  Cozance  being  taken  for  Anjou  was 
killed  in  the  firfl:  onfet,  and  the  Germans,  thinking 
the  bufmefs  over,  fell  into  diforder,  and  began  to 
plunder  the  dead.  Then  Anjou,  at  the  head  of  his 
ambufcade,  broke  in  upon  them,  drove  them  off  the 
field  with  great  flaughter,  and  took  the  unhappy 
Conradin  prifoner :  He  was  carried  thence  to  Naples, 
formally  tried,  and  condemned,  and  the  lafl:  blood  of 
the  illuftrious  houfe  of  Sivabia  was  fhed  upon  a  fcaf- 
fold :  Frederic  of  Aujlria,  his  generous  patron, 
fuffered  with  him.  In  his  lad  moments  he  bequeathed 
his  title  to  the  crown  of  Naples  to  Peter  oi  Arragon, 
who  had  married  a  daughter  of  Manfred's,  nor  was 
it  long  before  an  opportunity  was  given  to  aflert  the 
claim.  The  French  were  guilty  of  fo  much  cruelty 
and  opprelTion  in  their  government,  that  the  Ncapo- 

*  See  Inferko,  C.  28.  Notes. 
ti  litans 


C    55     1 

titans  and  Sicilians  breathed  nothing  but  revenge. 
The  Pope,  Nicholas  the  third,  began  now  to  dread 
the  encroachments  of  Anjou,  as  much  as  he  had  his 
rival  before.  His  jealoufy  was  raifed  to  the  bittereft 
enmity  by  Charles's  refufal  to  marry  his  daughter 
to  the  Pope's  nephew ;  and,  he  is  faid,  in  revenge, 
to  have  laid  the  plot  of  the  Sicilian  Vefpers,  where  a 
whole  people  entered  into  a  confpiracy  to  maflacre 
their  oppreflbrs.  It  is  well  known  that  the  ringing  of 
the  bell  for  evening  prayers  at  Mejfina^  was  the  fignal 
for  the  general  maflacre  ;  and  every  Frenchman  in  the 
ifland^  and  even  Sicilian  women,  with  child  by 
frenchmen,  were  put  to  death  without  mercy.  Ara- 
<30N  was  ready  with  a  fleet,  to  take  pofleflion  of  the 
ifland  immediately  after  the  aftion  ;  and  in  his  poflie- 
rity  the  Nor?nan  Hne  fit  on  the  throne  of  Sicily  at  this 
day. 

The  Crown  of  Naples  continued  in  the  Anjou  fa- 
mily a  few  generations  more,  till  the  unfortunate 
Joan,  great-grand-daughter  to  Charles  of  Anjou, 
fucceeded.  The  tragical  death  of  her  hufl^and,  and 
iier  marriage  with  tl^e  murtherer,  leaves  an  indelible 
ftain  upon  her  memory.. 

After  a  life  of  guiit  and  misfortune,  flie  adopted  as 
heir  Louis  of  Anjou,  brother  to  Charles  the  fifth, 
jDf  France,  From  him  the  title  devolved  afterwards 
to  Charles  the  eighth,  of  France,  who  won  and  loft 
Naples  in  a  few  months,  which,  after  many  revolu- 
tions was  finally  annexed  to  the  Crown  of  Sicily,  by 
Ferdinand,  of  Ara^on,  grandfather  to  the  Emperor, 
Charles  the  fifth. 

But  while  the  fouthern  provinces  of  Italy  and  Sicily 
were  drenched  in  blood,  Florence,  by  her  own  exer- 
tions, arofe  to  a  pitch  of  glory,  unknown  before. 

1:4  In 


r  56  ] 

In  the  difputes  between  the  Guelfs  and  Ghibe/Hnes, 
the  power  of  the  people  had  infenfibly  increafed.— — 
They  were  attached  to  the  Guelf  fadion,  and  by  that 
means  their  influence  rofe  to  fuch  a  degree,  that, 
after  feveral  changes  of  the  conftitution,  they  pro- 
pofed  that  the  city  fhould  be  governed  by  three  Priors 
or  Prators  ;  to  be  chofen  indifferently  from  the  Patri- 
cians and  the  Plebeians.  *  The  nobles  were  at  vari- 
ance among  themfelves,  and  each  party  feared,  that 
if  they  (hould  deny  the  popular  requeft,  the  rival  fac. 
tion  would  take  advantage  of  it  to  join  the  people, 
and  turn  the  fcale  againfl  them :  Thus,  each  being 
intimidated  by  the  other,  they  both  agreed  to  grant 
the  demands  of  the  Plebeians ;  and  thus  the  people 
obtained  a  fhare  in  the  government,  which,  from  being 
ariftocratical,  began  to  wear  an  afpeft  of  democracy. 

The  nobles,  however,  flill  retained  their  family 
influence,  and,  though  they  were  guilty  of  daily  out- 
rages, it  was  very  difficult  to  bring  any  of  them  to  a 
trial.  The  continual  difliurbances  occafioned  by  thefe 
feuds,  gave  a  fair  pretext  to  the  popular  party,  to 
demand  a  large  body  of  troops  to  be  levied,  who,  un- 
der the  command  of  an  officer,  called  Gonfalionere, 
ihould  be  entirely  at  the  devotion  of  the  Priors,  Thefe 
were  intended  to  fupprefs  any  tumult  raifed  by  the 
nobles.  Still  however,  while  any  of  the  nobles  had 
a  fhare  in  the  government,  the  courfe  of  juftice  was 
impeded.  The  daily  mifchiefs  which  this  occafioned, 
induced  Gian  de  Bella,  f  a  Patrician,  but  a  lover  of 
his  country ;  to  propofe  in  a  general  aflfembly,  a  total 
exclufion  of  the  nobles  from  any  Ihare  in  the  govern-^ 

*  Machiavel  Hift.  Flor.  L.  2. 

■\  Of  the  fame  Family  with  Dante.     See  Canto  29. 

ment, 


I    57    1 

Tnent,  to  encreafe  the  militia  from  one  to  four  thoii- 
fand,  and  to  order  the  Gonfalmzere  to  refide  con- 
tinually with  the  Prior,  Meantime  an  atrocious  mur- 
der was  committed  by  a  young  Patrician  of  the  Donate 
family,  and  the  Gonfalionere^  with  all  his  additional 
forces,  found  himfelf  unable  to  call  him  to  account. 
The  people  complained  to  their  patron,  Gian  de  Bella  ; 
he,  as  the  more  moderate  courfe,  defired  them  to  lay 
their  complaints  before  the  prior.  They,  not  obtain- 
ing ready  admittance,  attacked  the  palace,  and  levelled 
it  to  the  ground.  This  was  a  fufficient  handle  to  the 
nobles  to  accufe  Gian  de  Bella  of  raifmg  difturbances 
in  the  State,  and  h:  forefeeing  the  ftorm,  wifely 
withdrew. 

By  this  effort  the  nobles  found  that  their  ftrength 
confided  in  their  union,  and  that  all  the  advantages 
gained  by  the  people  were  merely  the  effedl  of  patri- 
cian difcord. 

In  confequence  of  this  they  made  a  fecret  coalition 
againil  the  populace,  and  refolved  to  engrcfs  all  the 
power  to  themfelves  ;  but,  elated  with  their  conquell 
over  Gian  de  Bella,  they  took  their  meafures  too  open- 
ly, the  people  flew  to  arms,  and  the  adverfe  parties 
were  on  the  point  of  an  engagement,  when  the  more 
moderate  citizens  interpofed,  and,  with  difficulty 
brought  about  a  reconciliation,  on  condition  that  the 
nobles  lliould  again  have  a  fhare  in  the  Priorate. 

The  names  oi Guelf  2Ji^  Ghibelin  were  now  almofl 
forgotten  at  Florence,  but  other  fadtions  foon  arofe 
whofe  quarrels  had  a  more  pernicious  effed.  The  oc- 
caiion  was  this  :  *  The  family  of  Cancelieri,  at  Pijioia, 

*  Machiavel  L.  2.     Villani  L.  8.  C.  32. 

a  fmall 


i:  58  :i 

a  fmall  eftate,  fabjed  to  Florence.^  was  divided  into  two 
branches,  the  heads  of  which  were  at  this  time  Guiliel" 

mo  and  Bertaccio^  or  Foccacia. A  fon  oi Guilielmo^ 

named  Lore  de  Cancelieri,  happened  to  ftrike  the  fon 
of  Bertaccjo,  with  a  fnow-ball,  in  the  eye.  The  blow 
left  a  mark,  dind  Guilielmo,  knowing  the  brutal  ferocity 
of  his  kinfman,  fent  his  fon  immediately  to  Bertaccio^ 
to  make  an  apology,  Bertaccio  feemed  only  to  have 
wiihed  for  an  opportunity,  of  quarrelling  with  the  other 
branch  of  the  family.  He  ordered  the  boy  to  be  feiz- 
ed,  and  very  deliberately  cut  off  the  offending  hand, 
coolly  remarking,  "  that  blows  only  could  be  repaid 
"  with  blows,  not  with  words."; — The  father  of  the 
mutilated  youth  fumnioned  his  dependents  to  arms  :— 
The  family  of  Bertaccio  affembled  in  defence  of  their 
kinfman,  and  Pijioia  was  fuddenly  involved  in  all  the 

horrors  of  a  civil  war. Dante  was  at  this  time 

Prior  of  Florence,  and  it  was  he  who  gave  the  advice, 
ruinous  to  himfelf,  and  pernicious  to  his  native  coun- 
tT)^,  of  calling  in  the  heads  of  the  two  fedtions  to  Flo- 
rence. — The  founder  of  the  Cancelieri  family  had  firft 
married  a  lady,  called  Biancbi,  from  her  was  derived 
the  name  of  the  white  faction  ;  the  others  immediately 
called  themfelves  Neri,  or  blacks.  On  their  arrival  at 
Florence,  the  Cherchi,  a  noble  family,  immediately  de- 
clared for  the  White  fa£lion.  Their  inveterate  enemies 
the  Donate,  inftantly  joinedthe  Blacks,  and  all  Florence 
was  again  divided  into  two  parties,  as  intereft  or  incli- 
nation led  them. 

The  confpiracy  of  the  black  fadion  to  call  in 
Charles  of  Valois,  and  the  fubfequent  exile  of  the 
white  faction,  with  Dante,  will  find  a  more  fuitable 

place  in  the  life  of  the  Poet. Florence,  in  the  midfl 

of 


I    59    ] 

of  thefe  convulfions,  gained  new  ftrength,  and  ac- 
quired new  glory.  The  liberal  arts  had  already  got 
footing  there,  fo  early  as  the  twelfth  century,  after  the 
power  of  the  Emperors  had  declined  in  Italy.  At  the 
death  of  Frederic  the  fecond,  it  had  been  really /r^d", 
but  it  was  enabled  to  make  a  formal  purchafe  of  its 
freedom,  from  the  Emperor  Rodolpb,  of  Hapjhurgh, 
who  fucceeded  the  Swabian  line ;  and  from  that  period 
till  the  fifteenth  century,  the  Emperors  were  fo  much 
involved  in  German  politics,  that  they  neglefted  Italy 
entirely.  —  It  was  during  this  decline  of  the  imperial 
power,  that  Florence,  Bologna,  Pifa,  and  Lucca,  gained 
the  liberty  of  governing  themfelves  by  their  own  laws, 
and  that  the  power  of  Venice  grew  formidable  ;  but 
though  other  republics  enjoyed  their  liberty  for  a  lon- 
ger period  of  time,  though  Venice  was  ennobled  by  con- 
quefl,  and  Pifa  by  commerce,  yet  none  were  more  il- 
luftrious  by  their  freedom  than  Florence.  Long  before 
the  taking  of  Conjiantinople  by  the  Turks,  which  is 
looked  upon  as  the  common  sera  of  the  revival  of  learn- 
ing, fhe,  like  another  Athens,  faw  the  arts  revive  in  the 
Jap  of  liberty. 

On  a  review  of  this  long  and  bloody  contention  be- 
tween the  Guelfs  and  Ghibelines,  and  on  adverting  to 
its  origin  ;  we  find  it  only  one  branch  o^  a  deep  radical 
evil,  whofe  origin  mufl  be  traced  to  remote  ages,  and 
whofe  confequences  we  feel  at  this  day.  ITie  difputes 
between  the  Eaftern  Emperour  and  the  Popes  about 
image  worfhip,  and  the  influence  that  had  in  giving  an 
Emperour  to  the  Weft,  were  noticed  above.  With 
the  hopes  of  obtaining  temporal  power  to  themfelves,  the 
Popes  foftered  the  ambition  of  Pepin,  and  the  enormous 
power  of  Charlemagne.      When^they  were  nearly 

over- 


[     6o    ] 

overwhelmed  by  that  mafs,  which  they  had  contributed 
themfelves  to  raife,  or  at  lead  made  that  a  pretext ; 
they  wanted  to  try  the  fame  expedient,  and  call  in  a 
foreign  power,  to  free  them  from  that  domellic  enemy, 
whom  they  had  goaded  almoft  to  madnefs  ;  and  then 
made  his  fury  the  fubjeft  of  tragical  declamation. 
Thus  they  provoked  Anjou  againft  Suabia  ;  and  Ar- 
RAGON  againft  Anjou  ;  they  fpread  the  flames  of  war 
from  the  fource  of  the  Danube  to  the  Tag  us,  and 
even  (in  the  cafe  of  Richard  Earl  of  Cornwall)  en- 
deavoured to  engage  England  in  the  quarrel.  To 
this  fource  we  can  trace  the  claims  of  Charles  VIII.  of 
France,  and  of  Louis  XII.  on  Naples,  the  imperial 
claims  on  Milan,  and  even  on  BELGiUM,*'which  have 
been  either  the  immediate  or  remote  caufes  of  all  the 
devaftation  made  by  war  in  Chriftendom ;  even  include 
ing  the  prefent,  through  a  decad  of  centuries. 

We  owe  the  invention  of  many  ufeful  manufactures, 
and  the  improvement  of  almoft  all  the  fciences  to  Italy^ 
about  that  period.  Charles  of  Anjou,  though  at- 
tended by  the  demons  of  difcord  and  oppreflion,  made 
fome  compenfation  by  tranfporting  the  Provencal  po- 
etry from  France  to  Italy,  and  upon  the  wild  compo, 
fitions  of  the  French  Troubadours,  or  ftrolling  min^ 
ftrels,  the  genius  of  Dante,  Petrarch,  and  Boccace, 
were  formed  ;  elegance  and  poetry  particularly  were 
carried  to  perfedion  in  Florence  ;  and  even  fo  early  as 
the  time  of  Boniface  the  eighth,  among  the  orators 
who  were  fent  to  congratulate  him  on  his  exaltation, 
there  were  no  lefs  than  eight  Florentines,  From  this 
jera,  till  the  the  time  of  Leo  the  tenth,  Italy  produced 
a  fucceffion  of  men  of  genius,  when  the  feeds  that 
had  been  fown  by  the  contefts  between  the  Pope  and 

Emperor 


C     6i     ] 

Emperor  produced  tbeir  laji  and  nobleji  fruit  in  tbs 
Reformatiom 

Even  fo  early  as  the  twelfth  century^  people  began 
to  difpute  very  freely  concerning  religion.  It  was  then 
the  Albigenfes  appeared,  a  feft,  who  acknowledged  no 
law,  but  that  of  the  gofpel,  and  held  tenets  nearly 
fimilar  to  thofe  of  the  proteftants.  They  were  perfe- 
cuted  by  Pope  Innocent  the  third,  and  maffacred  with- 
out mercy.  It  was  on  this  occafion  the  inquifition  was 
firft  eftabhfhed,  but  its  efforts  were  too  feeble  to  fup* 
prefs  the  fpirit  of  enquiry.  When  it  was  extinguifhed 
in  Languedoc^  it  was  kindled  anew  in  Piedmont^  and 
when  baniflied  from  Italy ^  it  took  refuge  in  Bohemia. 

Difputes  concerning  the  merefl  trifles  and  abfurdi- 
ties,  were  profecuted  with  equal  inveteracy.  The 
Francifcans,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  took  into  their 
head  to  deny  that  they  had  a  property  in  any  thing, 
even  in  what  they  eat  and  drank ;  the  property  they 
beftowed  on  the  church.  Pope  John  the  twenty-fe- 
cond,  was  offended  that  they  fhould  make  an  empty 
compliment  to  the  church,  and  wrote  againfl  them 
with  great  acrimony.  The  Emperor  Lewis  oi^  Ba- 
'voria,  the  Pope's  enemy,  defended  the  'Francifcans, 
and  the  Pope,  in  revenge,  feized  and  burnt  as  Here- 
tics fome  of  the  mofl  contumacious  of  them.  This  is 
one  inltance  out  of  many,  that  could  be  given,  of  the 
blind  and  bloody  zeal  of  the  times.  The  mifchiefs  of 
fuperftition,  the  ravages  of  religious  wars,  and  the 
baleful  influence  of  contending  for  fpeculative  opinions, 
are  favourite  topics  of  declamation.  It  is  a  common 
artifice  of  fophiftry,  to  blend  the  ideas  of  religion  and 
fuperftition  together,  and  argue  againft  the  benefits  of 
one,  from  the  ills  that  attend  the  other.      But  to  an 

attentive 


t    62    1 

attentive  obfen-er  of  this  period,  it  will  appear,  that 
even  the  wildeft  fuperftition  of  the  times,  had  fuch 
ingredients  mixed  with  it  as  formed  the  feeds  of  know- 
ledge, liberty,  and  virtue ;  effefts  which  did  not 
always  follow  the  boafted  philofophy  of  thofe  maflers 
of  reafon,  the  ancients. 

The  conteft  between  the  Popes  and  Emperors  was 
attended  with  fome  partial  evils  in  its  progrefs,  but 
thefe  partial  evils  produced  univerfal  good.  The  dif- 
pute  was  interefling  to  the  laft  degree :  It  was  of  no 
lefs  confequence  than  to  determine  whether  the  Pope 
Ihould  have  the  whole  ecclefiaflical  affairs  of  Germafiy 
at  his  difpofal,  or  the  Emperor  annihilate  the  liberty 
of  Italy.  Nothing  could  be  better  adapted  to  enlarge 
the  minds  of  men,  and  exercife  their  intellects,  than 
the  adjuftment  of  thofe  complicated  rights.  The  ex- 
amination of  their  origin  mufl:  have  carried  their  en- 
quiries back,  by  a  natural  and  eafy  afcent,  to  the 
times  of  primitive  and  pure  religion,  and  the:  golden 
age  of  ancient  liberty. — ^Hence  they  muft  gradually 
have  acquired  a  more  juft  idea  of  their  religion,  a 
clearer  notion  of  the  rudiments  of  policy ;  and  both 
muft  have  been  ftamped  on  their  minds  with  a  deeper 
impreflion,  by  the  illuftrious  examples  of  antiquity* 
We  find  the  falutary  eflfefts  of  thefe  difputes  in  open* 
ing  the  mind  very  early,  particularly  in  the  writings 
of  Dante.  In  his  book  de  Monarchia,  written  to 
aflert  the  claims  of  the  Emperor  againft  the  Pope,  he 
expatiates  upon  clerical  abufes  with  great  freedom. 
Petrarch  follows  him  in  the  fame  track :  He  in- 
veighs againft  the  depravity  of  the  times  with  great 
afperity,  and  his  inveftives  are  more  pointed,  becaufe 
more  impartial.     In  fliort,  the  difpute  between  the 

contending 


C  63   ] 

contending  parties  was  an  extenfive  field  for  genius. 
The  confli£t  of  fuch  difputants  muft  have  ftruck  out 
truth  at  lad,  and  the  mind  having  once  felt  its  powers  ; 
muft  have  exerted  them,  not  only  in  religion  and  poli- 
tics, but  on  every  art,  and  fcience  5  on  every  thing 
ufeful  and  ornamental. 

The  influence  of  this  difpute  on  liberty  was  more 
immediate.  The  Emperor  encouraged  the  Ghibelline 
fadion  in  Italy,  to  throw  off  their  flavifli  dependence 
on  the  Pope,  and  truft  to  the  proteftion  of  the  im- 
perial Fafces.  By  this  means,  he  was  often  on  the 
point  of  conquering  Italy ;  but  when  the  prize  was 
almofl  within  his  reach,  the  papal  influence  was  fo 
great  in  Germany,  that  the  Pontiff  could,  at  any  time, 
raife  commotion  againfl  his  enemy,  in  his  native  do- 
minions. Not  only  the  Clergy,  but  the  Laity,  feldom 
wanted  a  pretence  for  difcontent.  This  often  called 
the  attention  of  the  Emperor  to  domeflic  obje£l:s  :  His 
prefence  was  often  claimed  in  both  places  at  once,  and 
that  people,  from  whom  he  was  obliged  to  be  abfent, 
feldom  failed  to  pufli  their  pretenfions  into  right?,  and 
fet  up  claims  under  the  latter  Emperors,  which,  un- 
der Charlemagne,  were  unknown.  The  Emperors 
were  alfo  often  obliged  to  buy  the  friendlhip  both  of 
the  Germans  and  Italians,  with  large  immunities. 
Hence  gradually  arofe  the  rights  of  the  Gennank 
body,  and  the  dear-bought  liberty  of  the  Italian  re- 
publics. 

With  refpe£l  to  the  influence  thefe  difputes  had 
upon  the  manners  of  the  people,  we  mufl  own  it  was 
of  a  more  mixed  kind.  The  enthufiafm  of  miftaken 
zeal,  conduded  by  defigning  men,  often  drove  them 
to  atrocious  adions  j  but  from  the  very  complexion  of 

their 


C   64   3 

their  crimes^  we  may  trace  their  -virtues,  had  we  no^ 
other  document.  When  a  man's  faults  proceed  from 
the  miftakes  of  confcience,  may  we  not  juflly  con- 
clude, that  confcience  has,  in  general,  a  flrong  in- 
fluence over  him  ? 

In  fome  things  it  may  be  miftaken  ;  but,  for  the 
mod  part,  it  mufl  conduct  him  right. — His  notion  of 
the  importance  of  certain  opinions,  may  impel  him  to 
perfecute  the  fuppofed  enemies  of  orthodoxy  j  but,  if 
he  looks  upon  thofe  opinions  as  appendages  of  a  re- 
vealed law,  for  thefe  eflential  parts  of  the  law  he  mufb 
entertain  the  moft  reverential  regard.  If  this  revela- 
tion coincides  with,  and  enforces  the  primary  notions 
of  right  and  wrong  engraven  on  the  heart  of  every 
man,  the  law,  as  far  as  it  is  clear,  mufl  have  an  influ- 
ence on  his  life,  and  the  more,  the  further  he  is  re- 
moved from  the  career  of  ambition,  and  the  tempta- 
tions of  power.  The  progrefs  of  knowledge  from  the 
caufes  above  mentioned  mufl  enlighten  his  mind,  and 
afcertain  his  duty ;  and  thus  religion,  by  degrees, 
mufl  have  difengaged  itfelf  from  the  incumbrances  of 
fuperflition.  If  we  compare  this  deduction  with  the 
hiflory  of  the  middle  ages,  it  will  appear,  that  not 
only  the  reformed,  but  the  Catholic  churches,  gra- 
dually relinquifhed  the  groffefl  of  fome  of  their  tenets' 
and  adopted  a  more  liberal  turn  of  thinking. 

The  pretence  of  forwarding  the  interefls  of  religion 
has  often  occafioned  mifchiefs  of  the  mofl  virulent  kind. 
Are  we  to  make  this  an  argument  againfl  religion  itfelf? 
—  Every  thing  that  takes  a  flrong  hold  on  the  mind 
of  man  may  be  equally  abufed.  The  love  of  liberty 
itfelf  has  been  equally  revered,  and  equally  perverted  ; 
but  no  fophifler  ever  prefumed  to  make  tliis  an  argu- 
ment 


C   65  ] 

ment  againft  well  regulated  freedom.  When  the 
phantoms  of  religion  and  liberty  can  lead  men  into 
luch  wild  extremes,  it  only  proves  how  effential  the 
reahties  are  to  fociety. 

There  is  a  general  cry  againft  religious  intolerance, 
without  diflinguifhing  between  the  vigilance  of  proper 
difcipline,  and  the  extreme  of  perfecution. Tole- 
ration is  alfo  extolled  in  a  drain  of  general  panegyric, 
by  people  who  do  not  feem  to  know  the  difference  be- 
tween the  needful  jealoufy  of  a  wife  legiflature, 
anxious  for  the  virtue  of  a  people,  and  that  perni- 
cious neghgence  which  attended  the  abufe  of  tolera- 
tion in  the  declining  days  of  Athens  and  Rome. 

The  fervours  of  religion  have  often  actuated  the 
pafTions  to  deeds  of  the  wildeft  fanaticifm. — The 
booted  Apojiles  of  Germany,  and  the  Crufards  of 
France  carried  their  zeal  to  a  very  guilty  degree. 
But  the  paffion  for  any  thing  laudable  will  hardly 
carry  men  to  a  proper  pitch,  unlefs  it  be  fo  ftrong 
as  fometimes  to  pulh  them  beyond  the  golden  mean. — 
The  enthufiafm  oiEngliJh  valour  has  often  pulhed  our 
countrymen  to  a£ls  of  the  wildeft  defperation ;  but 
with  lefs,  perhaps,  Britons  had  not  been  heroes.  The 
fame  zeal  fent  the  miflionary  to  the  north,  and  the 
conqueror  to  the  fouth :  it  often  raifed  a  tempeft 
which  marked  its  road  with  devaftation  j  but  at  the 
fame  time  depofited  the  feeds  of  virtue,  order,  and 
civility.  The  wildeft  extravagancies  of  miftaken  zeal 
tend  to  work  its  ov/n  cure.  Rehgious  difputes  occa- 
fionally  inflame  the  paffions ;  but  nothing  fo  much 
opens  the  mind  and  enlarges  the  underftanding,  as 
nothing  is  of  equal  importance.  This  is  plain  to  any 
one  that  marks  the  progrefs  of  the  human  mind  during 
Vol.  I.  F  the 


f    66    J 

tht  four  ages  immediately  preceding  the  reformation. 
The  renovation  of  learning  and  the  arts  owes  more  to 
religious  contelb  than  to  any  other  circumflance  what- 
ever ;  they  relumed  the  flame  of  liberty,  and  fpread 
the  light  of  truth,  before  the  arrival  of  thofe  Greek 
fophiilers  from  Conftantinople,  to  whom  the  revival 
of  leaniing  is  generally  attributed. 

Such  were  the  elfefts  of  intolerance  even  in  the  ex- 
treme. In  a  more  moderate  degree,  every  well-regu- 
lated government,  both  antient  and  modern,  were  fo 
far  intolerant,  as  not  to  admit  the  pollutions  of  every 
fijperftition  and  every  pernicious  opinion.  It  was 
from  a  regard  to  the  morals  of  the  people,  that  th^ 
Roman  Magillrates  expelled  the  Priefts  of  Bacchus  *, 
in  the  firfl  and  moft  virtuous  ages  of  the  republic.  It 
was  on  this  principle  that  the  Perfians  deftroyed  the 
temples  of  Greece  wherever  they  came.  Socrates  was 
accufed  of  bringing  in  new  Gods,  becaufe  new  Gods, 
as  the  wife  Athenians  thought,  might  bring  in  new 
pollutions. 

The  Romans  are  faid  to  have  admitted  every  mode 
of  worfhip  within  their  walls  f.  Would  they,  in  the 
time  of  their  virtue  and  glory,  have  given  admittance 
to  the  Venus  Mylitta  of  the  Eaft,  with  all  her  train  of 
Proflitutes  ?  There  alv>^ays  was,  and  always  will  be, 
in  every  good  government,  an  intolerant  zeal  of 
virtue  againlt  vice ;  an  intolerance  which  the  Chrif- 
tians  did  not,  as  fome  fuppofe,  borrow  from  the 
Jews  ;  but  both  they  and  the  Jews  borrowed  it  from 
the  unalterable  Law  of  Right.     The  dread  of  popery  in 

*  Livy,  Herodotus. 

-}•  Gibbon's  Decline  of  the  Roman  Empire. 

the 


t    6?    ] 

the  iaft  age  was  not  ah  unmeaning  antipathy  to  certain 
fpeculative  opinions,  but  a  well-grounded  fear  of  the 
influence  of  fuch  opinions  on  fociety.  It  was  a  defign 
well  becoming  any  government,  to  abridge  the  power 
of  a  body  of  men  confefledly  under  a  foreign  influ- 
ence. 

The  Athenians  and  Romans  kept  a  watchful  eye^ 
not  only  over  the  grofler  fuperftitions,  but  over  im- 
piety ;  becaufe  they  knew,  that  iinpiety  an'd  infidelity 
difiblved  the  fanftions  of  morality,  and  brought  on 
both  public  and  private  corruption.  Polybius  plainly 
attributes  the  fall  of  freedom  in  Greece  to  the  pre- 
valence of  atheifm  *.  In  Rome,  Epicurean  philofophy 
and  political  corruption  went  hand  in  hand.  It  was 
not  till  the  republic  was  verging  to  its  fall,  that  Casfar 
dared  in  open  fenate  to  laugh  at  the  fpeculati-ve  opi-* 
nion  of  a  future  fl;ate.  Thefe  were  the  times  of  uni- 
verfal  toleration,  when  every  pollution,  from  every 
clime,  flowed  to  Rome,  whence  they  had  carefully 
been  kept  out  before.  How  far  they  prevailed  we 
learn  from  Juvenal ;  and  we  are  taught,  by  the  acri- 
mony of  his  invedive,  how  far  it  infringed  on  the 
antient  cenforial  vigilance  of  the  republic.  The  con^ 
fequence  was  natural ;  impiety  and  its  concomitant 
corruptions  were  fo  completely  eftablifhed  at  Rome,  and 
the  dodlrine  of  immortality  was  fo  deeply  obfcured  by 
jfbphifl:ry,  that  a  late  celebrated  writer  makes  it  a  queft 
tion,  whether  it  ever  was  believed  by  the  multitude  ^ 
and  brings  as  his  vouchers,  Horace  an  Epicurean j 
and  Juvenal  a  declamatory  fatirift  j  the  latter  in* 

*  That  attributes  the  formation  of  the  world  to  chance,  and  de- 
nies a  jcovidence. 

F  a  deed. 


[    68     ] 

deed,  in  a  ftorm  of  ironical  indignation,  obferves, 
that  fcarce  any  one  now  believes  thofe  fables  of  fu- 
turity ;  a  rhetorical  obfervation  which  might  well 
enough  become  the  pulpit  in  any  age  of  Chriltianity. 

But  to  leave  the  digreinon  : — It  may  be  thought  that 
there  is  too  much  attributed  to  the  trifling  fchool-di- 
vinity  of  the  age,  and  the  eternal  difputes  and  wars 
occafioned  by  religion :  it  may  be  thought  that  the 
political  and  moral  improvement,  which  began  to 
adorn  the  conclufion  of  the  fifteenth  centur}',  fprung 
from  the  natural  coiirfe  of  human  affiiirs,  leaving  re- 
ligion out  of  the  queflion :  it  may  be  urged,  that  the 
caufes  were  the  fame  that  raifed  Athens  and  Rome  to 
their  glory,  viz.  the  cultivation  of  reafon,  and  the 
natural  progrefs  of  fociety  from  rudenefs  to  civiliza- 
tion. I  leave  it  to  thofe  who  are  beft  acquainted  with 
the  fpirit  of  antiquity,  to  determine  whether  a  fpecies 
of  religion  (mixt  indeed  with  fuperftition)  had  or  had 
not  a  very  principal  fhare  in  raifmg  thofe  celebrated 
nations  to  the  fummit  of  their  glory :  their  decline  and 
fall,  at  lead,  may  fairly  be  attributed  to  irrcligion,  and 
to  the  want  of  fome  general  ftandard  of  morality, 
whofe  authority  they  all  allowed,  and  to  which  they 
all  appealed.  The  want  of  this  pole-flar  left  them 
adrift  in  the  boundlefs  ocean  of  conjecture ;  the  dif- 
putes of  their  philofophers  were  endlefs,  and  their 
opinions  of  the  grounds  of  morality  were  as  different 
as  their  conditions,  their  talles,  and  their  purfuits. 
Cafar  was  an  Epicurean.,  who  laughed  at  the  notion 
of  immortality  and  moral  obligation,  becaufe  he  meant 
to  overturn  the  conltitution.  Had  he  been  conquered^ 
or  a  flave,  like  Cato  or  Epidetus,  he  had  probably  been 
a  Stoic :  liis  great  foul  would  have  taken  pride  in  -pa. 

-  •  tiencc 


H 


C    69    ] 

tience  and  temperance ;  he  would  have  allowed  Virtue 
to  be  the  only  good  ;  and,  from  the  inequality  of  things 
here,  inferred  a  future  retribution.  Cicero  wavered 
between  both  parties  and  both  opinions ;  Socrates  and 
Plato  honeftly  owned  their  want  of  a  cceleftial  guide ; 
and  Pyrrbo,  taking  advantage  of  the  endlefs  wander- 
ings of  human  reafon,  concluded  that  all  men  were 
involved  in  hopelefs  ignorance,  and  all  things  in  im- 
penetrable obfcurity  ;  and,  confequently,  that  between 
virtue  and  vice  there  was  no  diftindion.  In  the  old 
world,  where  they  had  no  general  ftandard  to  refer 
to ;  where  one  grounded  his  opinions  on  principles 
that  another  denied ;  where  one  party  held  animal 
pleafure,  another  riches,  a  third  virtue,  to  be  the 
chief  good ;  their  contradictions  muft  have  been  in- 
finitCj  and  the  pernicious  confequence  of  their  dif- 
putes  muft  have  been  univerfal  ignorance  and  obfcu- 
rity, unlefs  a  new  fyftem  had  appeared,  which  brought 
men  back  fo  the  genuine  fentiments  of  nature,  and 
enforced  her  internal  dictates  of  right  and  wrong  by 
the  moft  powerful  fandlions. 

A  fubjeft  of  fuch  importance  muft  have  produced 
difputes  ;  but  thefe  difputes  had  a  neceffary  tendency 
to  produce  both  knowledge  and  virtue.  To  the  con- 
teft  we  owe  the  revival  of  learning :  the  authority  of 
the  revealed  law  was  allowed  by  all;  in  its  effential 
parts  all  agreed :  their  difputes  about  fome  lefs  effen- 
tial parts  produced  at  Icaft  critical  knowledge,  and  the 
progrefs  of  knowledge  will  in  the  end  bring  about  an 
uniformity  of  opinion.  Even  in  the  time  of  their 
fierceft  difputes,  their  concurrence,  as  to  elfentials, 
muft  have  given  at  leaft  the  fpirit  of  the  law  an  exten- 
five  influence  on  morals,  and  it  evidently  has. 

F  3  If 


r  70  3 

If  the  rational  powers  of  man  are  new  advancing 
to  their  zenith,  we  know  what  gave  them  ihdr  firft 
impulfe.  If  our  fyllems  of  moral  philofophy  are  now 
more  clear  and  better  founded,  we  can  eafily  trace  the 
caufe :  one  of  our  bed  morahfts  has  deduced  ouf 
obligations  to  virtue  from  our  natural  feehngs  of  fymr 
pathy  and  notions  of  propriety,  and  by  this  made  his 
whole  work  an  illuflrious  comment  on  that  divine 
precept,  "  Do  unto  others  as  you  would  they  JJiould  dt 
unto  you." 

The  enemies  of  revealed  religion  may  be  divide4 
into  two  ciafles ;  one  attacks  its  origin,  another  its 
confequences  ;  the  firil  thinks  it  eafy  to  account  for  it? 
formation  by  a  concurrence  of  fortuitous  incidents, 
without  having  recourfe  to  divine  fuperintendence  ; 
the  other  can  fee  no  effed  from  it  but  fanatic  quarrels, 
tyranny,  and  defolation :  the  firft  cannot  avoid  per- 
ceiving its  beneficial  confequences  ;  yet,  as  its  precepts 
are  hoftile  to  their  favourite  inclinations,  they  endear 
vour  to  find  its  origin  in  chance,  fuperllition,  or  a  perr 
verfion  of  reafon :  the  fecond  fet  of  adverfaries,  more 
enlightened  and  more  fubtle,  find  it  in  vain  to  combat 
the  accumulated  evidence  of  prophecy  attefted  by  hif- 
tory,  and  miracles  confirmed  by  effects  fcarce  lefs  won- 
derful ;  but  they  endeavour  to  difgrace  a  caufe  that 
they  c:  niot  deftroy  ;  they  attack  it  in  its  confequences, 
and  think  from  the  abufcs  of  fuperftition  to  fhow  the 
futility  of  religion  ;  concluding  aptly  enough,  that  if 
its  progrefs  be  only  marked  with  mifchief  and  folly,  it 
could  not  originate  in  wifdom  :  but  if,  from  hiftory 
and  obfervation,  it  appears  that  Providence  had  a 
ihare  in  its  progrefs,  it  can  hardly  be  excluded  from  its 
prigin :  a  concurrence  of  fortunate  incidents  may  have 

the 


I 


C    7"     ] 

the  appearance  of  chance  ;    but  where,  foi*  a  feries  of 
ages,  defigns  feemingly  pernicious,  and  accidents -feem- 
ingly  hoftile,  are  found  to  change  their  afpect,  and 
operate  uniformly  in  favour  of  one  objedt,  this  is  more 
than  chance.      It  would  be  ridiculous  philofophy,  to 
expatiate  on  the  marks  of  wifdom  in  the  organization 
of  a  plant,  and  yet  affert  that  the  root  was  a  concretion 
of  matter,  formed  \vithout  defign,  and  fitted  to  no  end. 
Still  it  may  be  thought  by  fome,  that  the  real  and  le- 
gitimate effect  of  thefe  religious  difputes  was  nothing 
but  contention  and  bloodfhed  ;  and  that  liberty,  know- 
iedge,  and  civilization,  fprung  from  them  only  by  acci- 
dent ;  and  that  this  is  not  a  fingular  infliance  of  order 
fpringing  from  confufion.     But  to  obviate  this  it  will, 
I  believe,  on  examination  appear,  that  the  difputes  con- 
cerning religion  in  the  middle  ages  were  effentially  dif- 
ferent in  their  caufes,  as  well  as  their  effeds,  from  wars 
whofe  fole  motives  are  ambition  or  lucre.     Even  in  the 
conteft  of  freedom,  we  have  often  feen,  that  the  prof- 
perity  attendant  on  conqueft  only  tended  to  fap  the  vir- 
tue of  the  conquerors  ;    and  that  a  noble  refiftance  to 
tyranny  ended  in  an  inglorious  overthrow  by  vice. 
Accumulated  and  pernicious  luxury  is  the  viftor's  lot, 
in  difputes  occafioned  by  commerce  ;  and  the  purfuits 
of  dominion  only  vary  the  pifture  with  the  infolence 
of  the  oppreffor  and  the  miferies  of  the  opprelfed.     The 
Greeks  nobly  refilled  their  Afiatic  invaders  ;  they  pur- 
fued  them  to  their  native  plains  ;  but  there  they  were 
encountered  by  a  much  more  formidable  hofl,  the 
Vices  of  the  conquered,  who  chafed  them  with  diftio- 
nour  from  the  field,  purfued  them  to  their  native  fhores, 
haunted  them  in  the  Temple  and  the  Forum,  ufurped 
their  altars,  mingled  with  their  counfels,  and  in  a  few 

F  4  years 


C    72    ] 

years  amply  avenged  the  caufc  of  the  Pcrftan  Mo- 
narch. 

The  bloody  devaftations  of  Attila  and  Zingis  left 
few  other  marks  but  the  dtbafement  of  the  human 
charader  wherever  they  pafl: ;  and  the  hiftory  of  mo- 
dern times  fiicws  us,  in  the  ftrongcft  colours,  the  per- 
nicious effects  of  merely  commercial  wars.     Compare 
this  with  the  pi£ture  of  religious  quarrels,  a  pidure 
touched  with  additional  horrors  by  fome  of  the  firft 
names  of  the  age  ;   there  we  find,  by  a  common  trick 
of  fophiflry.  Religion,  difguifed  under  the  name  of  fu- 
perflition,  reprefented  as  the  caufe  of  half  the  miferies 
of  the  world.     When,  by  the  natural  courfe  of  things, 
fociety  is  Ihown  as  advancing  by  large  flrides  to  perfec- 
tion, jufl  at  the  dawn  of  liberty  and  the  fciences,  we 
are  told  that  this  happy  flate  of  things  was  thrown  into 
inextricable  confufion  by  religious  difputes  ;  that  Re- 
ligion came  in,  armed  with  her  Bible  and  fword,  re- 
kindled the  flames  of  difcord,  and  threw  back  fociety 
into  its  original  barbarifm.     This  we  are  told  by  Au- 
thors who  knew  right  well,  that  the  firft  movement  of 
the  mind  that  fet  it  on  the  road  to  perfcftion  was  reli- 
gion ;    and  that  knowledge,  virtue,  and  liberty  were 
her  genuine  offspring.     But  let  us  ftrip  the  fubjeft  of 
.the  colourings  of  eloquence,  and  view  it  in  its  fimple 
flate  with  an  unimpaffioned  eye.      The  Chriflian  reli- 
gion, on  its  firft  introduftion,  was  found  incompatible 
with  vice  and  every  corruption  of  the  heart,  yet  it  gain- 
ed ground,  againft  the  almoft  univerfal  current  of  de- 
pravation.    Thofe  who  did  not  chufe  to  mortify  their 
darling  appetites,  and  yet  wifhed  to  obtain  a  title  to  its 
promifes  (or  at  Icaft  a  name  among  the  heads  of  fefts) 
endeavoured  to  reconcile  the  doftrines  of  revelation  to 

the 


C    73    ] 

the  vices  of  mankind.  To  this  end  they  peiTerted  the 
dodrine  of  grace,  founded  forth  the  merits  of  eleemo- 
fynary  donations,  and  exalted  theory  above  pradice, 
and  faith  above  virtue.  Hence  fprung  a  monflrous 
birth  of  herefy  and  corruption,  which  was,  in  every 
age  as  it  arofe,  warmly  oppofed  by  the  few  friends  of 
genuine  religion  and  virtue.  Thefe  were  the  firft  re- 
ligious quarrels  j  which,  though  they  are  made  the 
theme  of  mofl  tragical  declamations  by  fome  writers, 
appear  to  be  nothing  eife  but  the  war  of  Virtue  againft 
Vice,  of  Reafon  againft  Sophiftry.  In  the  mean  time 
the  Weftem  Church,  which  had  been  lefs  tainted  with 
dangerous  opinions  than  the  Eaftern,  by  a  fatal  con- 
currence of  events,  acquired  a  large  fhare  of  temporal 
power.  The  dodrines  of  tranfubftantiation,  infalUbi- 
lity,  abfolution,  indulgences,  purgator}',  he.  were,  in 
procefs  of  time,  invented,  in  order  to  fupport  this 
power.  Thefe  dodrines  were  early  oppofed  by  reafoa, 
and  their  pernicious  tendencies  to  virtue  and  the  inter- 
eih  of  fociety  pointed  out ;  while  fuch  of  the  European 
potentates  as  found  themfelves  aggrieved  by  the  bound- 
lefs  pretenfions  of  the  church  of  Rome,  under  the  co- 
lour of  religion,  oppofed  her  by  force  of  arms.  This 
gave  rife  to  difputes  more  bloody  and  extenfive ;  but 
flill  their  bafis  was  the  wholefome  exertions  of  reafon 
againft  fophiftry,  and  mental  freedom  againft  oppref- 
fion.  This  is  the  real  hiftory  of  thefe  difputes,  which 
are  branded  by  the  name  of  the  horrors  of  fuperftition; 
but  what  would  have  been  the  ftate  of  the  world,  if 
thefe  corruptions  had  gone  on  without  being  checked? 
And  how  could  it  be  expeded  they  could  be  overcome 
without  a  long  and  painful  conflid  ?  —  By  long  expe- 
rience we  have  found  the  good  effeds  of  religious  dif- 
putes ; 


Z    74    ] 

putes :  like  the  contefts  of  oppolitc  parties  in  philofo- 
phy,  they  tend  to  ftrike  out  truth  :  for  (if  we  may  be 
allowed  the  metaphor)  there  h  an  elaftic  repugnance 
in  the  mind  againft  receiving  nptions  impofed  upon  it 
by  force,  or  againlt  convitStion  ;  and  the  weight  of  the 
prefTure  only  njakes  it  recoil  with  the  bolder  fpring, 
particularly  when  tenets  are  impofed  upon  her  which 
outrage  our  common  notions  of  right  and  wrong,  vir- 
tue and  vice.  Hence  religious  contefts,  like  all  other 
intellectual  djfputes,  have  been  always  friendly  to  the 
caufe  both  of  virtue  and  freedom. 

Thefc  are  the  difputes  which  the  enemies  of  religion 
reprefent  in  a  light  fo  odious,  and  lay  to  ber  charge, 
becaufe  by  them  -her  name  was  perverted  and  abufed  : 
vhat  they  cannot  dcftroy  they  endeavour  to  difgrace ; 
and,  under  the  name  of  Toleration,  they  endeavour  to 
introduce  an  apathy,  an  indifference  to  the  beft  and 
ftrongeft  motives  for  purity  of  heart  and  reftitude  of 
condud :  their  motives  we  may  juftly  fuppofe  the  fame 
with  thofe  of  the  firft  perverters  of  religion.  Its  old 
and  fecret  enemies,  under  the  malk  of  friendfliip,  en- 
deavoured to  contaminate  the  doftrines  of  revelation 
by  reconciling  them  to  their  vices  :  its  open  foes  find 
it  vain  to  impofe  theirs  upon  the  mind  in  this  enlight- 
ened age  ;  and  not  being  able  to  reconcile  it  with  their 
purfuits,  they  endeavour  to  deftroy  its  influence  in  the 
world  :  yet,  when  they  meet  with  the  fober  cenfure  of 
reafon,  they  declaim  againft  it  as  the  clamour  of  eccle- 
fiaftical  tyranny  ;  and  they  will  not  allow  that  religion 
can  be  favourable  to  the  light  of  knowledge  or  the 
caufe  of  liberty,  when  it  cenfures  them  for  the  propa- 
gation of  their  opinions :  but  there  are  certain  bounds, 
even  to  liberty  ;    beyond  tliis  it  takes  the  name  of  li- 

fi  centioulhefs. 


C    75    ] 

centioufnefs.  The  liberty  of  loofening  the  bands  of 
fociety,  and  deriding  the  folemn  fanftions  of  virtue,  is 
the  liberty  of  a  lunatick ;  and  it  was  to  prevent  fucli 
wanton  mifchief,  that  the  true  principles  of  freedom 
were  firft  laid  down. 

Thus  I  have  endeavoured  to  fhow,  that  religion,  un- 
der its'mofl  unfavourable  afpeft,  and  attended  with  the 
mofl  untoward  circumflances,  was  yet  eminently  be- 
neficial to  the  beft  interefts  of  fociety  ;  that,  when  pol- 
luted, it  threw  off  the  contamination  ;  when  perverted^ 
k  recovered  its  reftitude  j  and  when  traduced,  it 
triumphed  over  calumny.  It  owed  little  to  human 
affiftance ;  for,  in  the  middle  ages,  they  who  could 
beft  have  brought  about  a  reformation  were  averfe  to 
the  talk :  they  did  not  chufe  to  abridge  ecclefiaftical 
power,  as  they  uniformly  afpired  to  ecclefiaftical  ho- 
nours. I  am  aware  at  the  fame  time  that  fuch  an 
enquiry  may  feem  mifplaced,  and  incongruous  to  the 
prefent  defign  ;  but  in  an  inquiry  into  the  fpirit  of  the 
middle  ages,  the  occafion  feemed  natural,  and  the 
fubjedt  was  a  favourite  one.  It  is  fufficient  for  the 
author,  if,  notwithftanding  the  faults  of  the  execu- 
tion, the  attempt  ftiould  meet  the  approbation  of  thofe 
whom  he  is  moft  folicitous  to  pleafe:  and  if  this  fhould 
call  forth  fome  more  able  inveftigator,  his  ambition 
would  be  moft  fully  fatisfied. 


^1 


THE 


LIFE    OF    DANTE 


F  !(.  O  M 


LEONARDO    BRUNL 


N-  B.  Many  Biographical  particulars  of  Dante,  are  taken  from 
Mr.  Hayley's  Notes  to  his  Essav  on  Epic  Poetry. 


nPHE  anceftors  of  Dante  were  of  one  of  the  firft 
families  of  Florence,  of  the  name  of  Caccia 
GuifiA.  Aligheeri  was  the  furname  of  the  mater- 
naHine,  natives  of  Ferrara,  fo  called  from  a  golden 
wing  *  which  the  family  bore  on  their  arms. — ^The 
poet  was  born  in  the  year  one  thoufand  two  hundred 
and  fixty-five,  a  little  after  the  return  of  the  Guelfs 
or  Pope's  fadion,  who  had  been  exiled  from  their 
native  country,  in  confequence  of  the  defeat  at  f  Monte 
Aperte.  The  fuperiority  of  his  genius  appeared  early^ 
and,  (if  we  may  believe  Boccace)  his  amorous  dif- 
pofition  began  almofl  as  foon  to  make  its  appearance. 

•  VeUutello.  f  See  historical  essay. 

Hs 


C   78   ] 

His  paflion  for  that  lady,  whom  he  has  celebrated  inf 
his  Poem,  by  the  name  of  Beatrice,  is  laid  to  have 
commenced  at  nine  years  of  age.  She  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  FoLEO  PoRTiNARi,  a  noblc  citizen  of  Florence, 
His  paflion  feems  to  have  been  of  the  chafte  and  pla- 
tonic  kind,  like  that  of  hid  fucceflbr  Petrarch", 
according  to  the  account  he  has  given  of  it  in  one  of 
his  early  produdions,  entitled  Vita  Nuova,  a  mixture 
of  myfterious  poetry  and  profe  ;  in  which  he  mentions 
both  the  origin  of  his  afFeftions,  and  the  death  of  his 
miflrefs,  .who  died,  according  to  Bocgaoio,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-fix. — ^I'he  fame  author  aflerts,  that  in 
confequence  of  this  event,  Dante  fell  into  a  profound 
melancholy,  from  which  his  friends  endeavoured  to 
rtife  httti^  by  perfuading  him  to  marriage.  After 
fome  tihle?  htf  foliowed  their  advice^  and  repented  it ; 
for  he  unfortunately  made  choice  of  a  lady,  who  bore 
fome  refemblance  to  the  celebrated  XantipPe,  The 
Poet,  not  pofleffing  the  patience  of  Socrates,  fepa- 
rated  himfelf  from  her,  with  fuch  vehement  expreffions 
ai  diilike,  that  he  never  afterwards  admitted  her  to- 
irt  in  his  prefenee,  though  Ihe  had  borne  him  feveral 
children.  Either  at  this  period,  or  upon  the  death  of 
bis  firft  miftrefs^  he  feems,  by  his  oviai  account,  to 
feavfc  fallen  into  a  profligate  courfe  of  life,  from  which 
he  was  refcued  by  the  prayers  of  his  miflrefs,  now  a 
Saint,  who  prevailed  on  the  fpirit-of  Virgil  to  attend 
kim  through  the;  Infernal  regions  j  at  lead  he  gives 
this  as  the  occafion  of  his  immortal  work,  the  Divina 
Csmmedia^  of  which  the  Inferno  conftitutes  a  paft. 

From  the  myftic  firain  of  his  poetry  indeed,  *  one 
is  in  douSt  whether  his  reigning  vice  was'profligacy, 

*  PuRGATORio,  Canto  30. 


I 


r 


C    79    I 

or  SHI  ambitious  purfuit  of  xvorldly  honours:  The 
latter  at  leaft  was  the  immediate  occafion  of  all  the 
misfortunes  of  his  future  life. — To  the  profound 
learning  of  a  redufe,  and  the  polifhed  manners  of  a 
courtier,  he  had  joined  an  ardent  defire  of  military 
glory,  and  diftinguiihed  himfelf  by  his  bravery  in  an 
adtion  where  the  Florentines  obtained  a  fignal  victory 
at  Arezzo :  This,  joined  with  his  reputation  of  con- 
fumraate  learning,  and  knowledge  of  the  world,  pre- 
pared the  way  for  his  advancement  to  the  firft  honours 
of  the  State.  Italy,  at  that  time,  was  diil:ra£led  be- 
tween the  fadions  of  the  Gaelfs,  or  partizans  of  the 
Pope ;  and  GhibeUines,  who  adhered  to  the  Emperor. 
After  many  revolutions  the  Guelfs  had  got  the  fupe- 
riority  in  Florence.  In  the  year  one  thoufand  three 
hundred,  Dante,  with  feveral  colleagues,  was  elefted 
Prior,  the  firft  executive  office  in  the  republic  of 
Florence ;  and,  according  to  a  fragment  of  a  letter, 
preferved  by  Leonardo  Bruni,  from  this  exaltation 
Dante  dates  the  beginning  of  his  misfortunes. 

Since  the  battle  of  Campaldino,  or  Arezzo,  (where 
Dante  had  diftinguiihed  himfelf)  the  faftion  of  Uie 
GhibeUines  feemed  totally  extin^ ;  an  uninterrupted 
flow  of  ten  years  profperity  was  attended  with  confe- 
quences  more  fatal  to  the  Guelfs j  than  all  paft  mis- 
fortunes.— The  two  noble  families  of  the  *  Ckerchi 
and  DoNATi,  had  been  engaged  in  a  quarrel  of  an 
old  ftanding,  but  the  feud  did  not  break  forth  into 
open  violence  immediately  :-*-The  firft  occafion  of 
their  having  recourfe  to  arms,  was  a  difpute  between 
two  branches  of  the  family  of  Gancelieri  oi  Flfioia, 

*  See  View  of  the  Florentine  Hiftory,  &c< 

The 


C   80   ] 

The  rival  faclions  had  diflinguifhed  themfelves  by 
names  of  the  Blacks,  and  the  Wfjitc:.  Donatio  from 
ail  old  attachment  to  the  part  of  the  Cancelieri,  called 
the  Blacks,  jomed  their  fadUon :  This  immediately 
determined  the  Cherchi  to  join  the  Whites ;  and,  in 
order  to  put  an  end  to  the  quarrel,  Dante,  and  his 
colleagues,  ordered  the  heads  of  the  oppofite  factions 
to  renjove  from  Pijioia  to  Florence.  This,  as  Bruni 
obferves,  was  Uke  the  introdudion  of  a  peftilence ; 
all  the  noble  families  of  Florence  immediately  landed 
on  oppofite  fides.  Some  joined  Donati,  and  the  black 
fadion,  fome  declared  for  the  whites,  who  were  fup- 
ported  by  Cherchi. 

The  quarrel  fpread,  by  the  influence  of  thefe  nobles, 
among  the  lower  orders  of  the  citizens,  and  there 
was  fcarce  an  individual  in  the  city  who  was  not  enlifl- 
ed  under  the  black  or  white  enfign.  At  lafl,  at  ^ 
fecret  meeting  of  the  black  faction,  in  the  church  of 
the  Holy  Trinity,  by  night,  it  was  propofed,  by 
Carso  Donati,  to  apply  to  Boniface  the  eighth,  to 
terminate  thefe  inteftine  broils,  by  fending  Charles 
of  Valois,  of  the  blood-royal  of  France.  The  white 
fadion,  having  got  intelligence  of  the  projed,  im- 
mediately took  the  alarm,  and  affembled  in  arms, 
and  clamoured  loud  againfl  the  ruinous  projed. 

Dante  perceived  the  pernicious  confequences  of 
Donates  counfel,  and  from  that  moment  it  is  pro- 
bable he  took  a  decided  part  againfl  the  black  fadion. 
However,  to  preferve  the  appearance  of  impartiality, 
he,  and  his  colleagues,  gaining  the  multitude  on  their 
fide,  ordered  the  leaders  of  both  parties,  Donati 
and  Cherchi,  into  confinement :  But  the  real  fenti- 

inent& 


I 


C     8i     J 

rtients  of  the  Prior  foon  appeared.  Ch:erchi,  and  his 
adherents  of  the  white  faftion  were  inftantly  fet  at 
liberty ;  while  Donati,  with  his  black  Valefians^  re- 
mained in  bonds,  or  in  exile.  The  Priorate  indeed 
of  Dante  had  expired  before  the  releafement  of  the 
*white  faftion ;  but  the  meafure  was  neverthelefs  attri- 
buted to  the  counfels  of  the  Poet; 

This  appearance  of  partiaHty  gave  the  wifHed  for 
pretext  to  Boniface,  to  fend  Charles  of  Valois  to 
Florence.  As  both  the  whites  and  blacks  were  only 
branches  of  the  Guelfs^  or  old  papal  fadtion,  Charles 
was  honourably  received  by  all,  and  preferved  the 
appearance  of  moderation :  till,  when  he  thought 
affairs  ripe  for  his  projeft,  he,  on  a  fuddenj  recalled 
the  exiles  of  the  black  fadion,  and  banilhed  their  ad- 
verfaries.  To  give  a  colour  to  this  outrage,  a  letter 
was  produced  in  pubHc,  faid  to  have  been  written  by 
fome  of  the  leaders  of  the  white  faftion,  and  promifing 
the  caftle  of  Prato  to  Ferrant,  the  confident  of 
Charles,  if  he  would  prevail  on  his  mafter  to  de- 
clare himfelf  on  the  fide  of  the  white  fadlion.  The 
blame  was  thrown  on  Dante,  both  of  this  letter, 
and  the  precedent  banifhment  of  Donati.  Dante 
was  then  at  Rome,  foliciting  the  interference  of  the 
Pope,  to  conciliate  the  two  parties,  and  reftore  peace 
to  his  afflicled  country.  Finding,  however,  his  folici- 
tations  in  vain,  he  returned ;  but  returned  only  to 
meet  the  fentence  of  exile,  to  fee  his  poifefrions  con- 
fifcated,  and  his  houfe  razed  to  the  foundation. — He 
had  been,  in  his  abfence,  cited  before  the  Podejia  of 
Florence,  for  mifdemeanours  during  his  Priorate ;  and^ 
on  his  not  appearing,  he  was  declared  contumacious, 
and  fentence  pronounced  againft  him.  At  Siena,  on 
Vol.  I.  .      G  his 


C   82   3 

his  return,  the  news  of  the  fentence  met  him  ;  and  at 
the  fame  time  he  faw  himfelf  furroundcd  by  a  numer- 
ous and  illuflrious  body  of  exiles  ;  who  immediately 
formed  themfelves  into  an  army,  under  the  command 
of  Alcffandro  di  Romcna.  I'hey  made  feveral  at- 
tempts to  enter  their  native  city  by  force,  and  once 
went  fo  far  as  to  feize  on  one  of  the  gates  ;  but  jhey 
were  flill  repulfed  \^'ith  lofs. 

Thefe  different  expeditions  took  up  about  the  fpace 
of  four  years ;  at  lafl,  when  they  found  their  hopes 
abortive,  they  difperfed,  and  each  fought  his  fortune, 
Dante  firft  found  a  patron  in  the  great  Cane  de  la 
Scala^  Prince  of  Verona,  whom  he  has  celebrated  in 
t!ie  firfl  Canto  of  the  Inferno.  The  high  fpirit  of 
Dante  was  ill  fuited  to  courtly  dependance ;  and  it 
n  very  probable  he  loft  the  favour  of  his  Veronefe  pa- 
tron by  the  republican  franknefs  of  his  behaviour. 
An  inftance  of  this  is  given  in  feveral  authors.  The 
tiifpofition  of  the  Poet,  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life, 
had  acquired  a  ftrong  tincture  of  melancholy :  This 
made  him  lefs  acceptable  in  the  gay  Court  of  Verona, 
where  probably  a  poet  was  only  thought  a  charafter 
fit  to  find  frivolous  amufements  for  his  patron.  A 
common  jefter,  or  buffoon,  (a  noted  perfonage  in 
thofe  days,)  eclipfed  the  character  of  the  bard,  and 
neither  the  variety  of  his  learning,  nor  the  fublimity 
of  his  genius,  flood  him  in  any  ftead.  Cane,  the 
Prince,  perceived  that  he  was  hurt  by  it ;  and,  inftead 
of  altering  his  mode  of  treatment,  veiy  ungeneroufly 
exafperated  his  refentment,  by  obferving,  one  day  in 
public  company,  that  "  it  was  very  extraordinary, 
that  the  jelter,  whom  every  one  knew  to  be  a  worth- 
ids  fellow,  fhould  be  fo  much  admired  by  him,  and 

aU 


C    83    ] 

ail  his  court ;  •while  Dante,  a  man  unparalleled  in 
learning,  genius  and  integrity,  was  univerfally  ne- 
gledled. 

"  You  will  ceafe  to  wonder,  (fays  Dante)  when 
you  confider  that  fimilarity  of  manners  is  the  flrongeft 
bond  of  attachment."— ^This  anfwer  was  fevere,  but 
merited.  It  does  not  appear  whether  Scala  refented 
it  or  no.  It  is  certain  that  the  Prince  endeavoured  to 
make  the  Poet  an  occafional  obje£t  of  merriment  in 
fome  very  low  inftances,  and  Dante  condefcended 
to  meet  him  even  in  that  humble  fpecies  of  wit. 

Cinthio  Geraldi,  in  his  Hecatotommithi,  gives; 
us  one  inftance  of  it,  whicli  is  barely  worth  mention- 
ing ;  as  it  marks  the  manners  of  the  times.  At  table 
one  day,  the  Prince,  or  his  jefler,  had  a  boy  fet  under 
the  table,  who  took  care  to  convey  all  the  bones  as 
they  were  thrown  down,  to  the  fide  of  Dante.  Af- 
ter dinner,  the  reliques  were  produced  as  a  tellimony 
of  his  wonderful  difpatch. — "  You  have  diilinguifhed 
*'  yourfelf  to-day  in  a  very  extraordinary  manner," 
fays  the  Prince:-—"  Not  at  all  extraordinary,"  re-» 
turned  the  Poet.  Had  I  been  a  dog  (alluding  to  his 
patron's  name  Cane)  I  would  have  demolifhed  bone^ 
and  ail,  "  as  you  have  done."* 

Dante  however  focn  found  it  neceifary  to  feek  his 
fortune  elfewhere,  and  from  Verona  he  retired  to  France ^ 
according  to  Manetti  ;  and  Boccacio  affirms  that 
he  difputed  in  the  theological  fchools  of  Paris  with 
great  reputation, — Bayle  queftions  his  vifiting  Paris 
at  this  advanced  period  of  his  life ;  and  thinks  it  im- 
probable, that  a  man,  who  had  been  one  of  the  chief 
magiflrates  of  Florence,  fhould  condefcend  to  engage 

*  A  fimilar  ftory  is  told  of  young  Hircanus  by  Josephus. 

G  2  iii 


[     84     ] 

in  the  fquabbles  of  Parifian  Theologifts ;  but  the  fpirit 
both  of  Dante,  and  of  the  times  when  he  lived,  fuf- 
ficiently  account  for  this  exercife  of  his  talents ;  and 
his  refidence  in  France  at  this  period  is  confirmed  by 
BoccAcio,  in  his  life  of  the  Poet,  (which  Bayle 
feems  to  have  had  no  opportunity  of  confulting) 
where  his  biographer  aflerts,  that  he  difputed  publicly 
with  all  comers. 

But  now  other  profpedls  began  to  open  :  In  the  year 
one  thoufand  three  hundred  and  eight,  Henry,  Count 
of  Luxemburgh,  was  raifed  to  the  Empire.  This  af- 
forded Dante  a  profpeft  of  being  reftored  to  his 
native  country  ;  accordingly  lie  attached  himfelf  to  the 
interefts  of  the  new  Emperor,  in  whofe  fervice  he  is 
fuppofed  to  have  written  his  Latin  work,  intitled, 
De  Monarchia,  in  which  he  aflerts  the  rights  of  the 

Empire  againfl  the  encroachments  of  the  papacy. 

In  the  year  one  thoufand  three  hundred  and  eleven, 
he  infligated  the  Emperor  to  lay  fiege  to  Florence ; 
"  in  which  enterprize,  fays  one  of  his  biographers, 
"  he  did  not  chufe  to  appear  in  perfon,  from  motives 
'*  of  refpect  to  his  native  country." — The  Emperor 
was  repulfed  by  the  Florentines,  and  his  death,*  which 
happened  next  year,  deprived  Dante  of  all  hopes  of 
re-eftablifhment  in  his  native  country. 

After  this  disappointment  he  is  fuppofed  to  have 
fpent  feveral  years  in  roving  about  Italy,  in  a  flate  of 
poverty  and  dependance  ;  till  he  found  an  honourable 
eftablifhment  at  Ravenna,  by  the  friendfhip  of  Guido 
Novello  de  Polenta,  Lord  of  that  place.  He 
received  this  illuftrious  exile  with  the  mofl  endearing 
liberality,  continued  to  proted  him  during  the  few 
*  He  was  fuppofed  to  have  been  poifoned  by  a  confecrated  hoft. 

^  remaining 


C   85   ] 

remaining  years  of  his  life,  and  extended  his  munifi^ 
cence  even  to  the  afhes  of  the  Poet. 

Eloquence  was  one  of  the  many  talents  which 
Dante  polTefled  in  an  eminent  degree  ;  on  this  account 
he  is  faid  to  have  been  employed  in  fourteen  different 
embaffies  during  the  courfe  of  his  life,  and  to  have 
fucceeded  in  mofl  of  them. 

His  patron  Guido  had  occafion  to  try  his  abilities 
in  a  fervice  of  this  nature,  and  difpatched  him  as  his 
ambaffador,  to  negociate  a  peace  with  the  Venetians ; 
who  were  preparing  for  hoflilities  againfl  Ravenna, 
Manelte  afferts  that  he  was  unable  to  procure  a 
public  audience  at  Venice,  and  returned  to  Ravenna 
by  land,  from  his  apprehenfion  of  the  Venetian  fleet* 
But  the  fatigue  of  his  journey,  and  the  mortification 
of  having  failed  in  his  attempt  to  preferve  his  generous 
patron  from  the  impending  danger,  threw  him  into  a 
fever,  which  terminated  in  death.  On  the  14th  of 
September,  1321,  he  died,  however,  in  the  palace 
of  his  friend  ;  and  the  affedionate  Guido  paid  the 
moft  tender  regard  to  his  memory. 

This  magnificent  patron,  fays  Boccacio,  com- 
manded the  body  to  be  adorned  with  poetical  orna- 
ments ;  and  after  being  carried  on  a  bier  through  the 
principal  ftreets  of  Ravenna,  by  the  mofl  illuftrious 
citizens,  to  be  depofited  in  a  marble  coffin.  He  pro- 
nounced himfelf  the  funeral  oration,  and  expreffed  his 
defign  of  erefting  a  mofl  fplendid  monument,  in  hon- 
our of  the  deceafed :  a  defign,  which  his  fubfequent 
misfortune  rendered  him  unable  to  accomplifh.  At 
his  requefl  many  epitaphs  were  written  on  the  Poet, 
The  befl  of  them,  fays  Boccacio,  by  Giovanni  dj 
ViRGiLEO,  of  Bologna,  a  famous  author  of  the  time, 

G  3  and 


C     8«    ] 

and  the  Intimate  friend  of  Dante.  Boccacio  then 
cites  a  few  Latin  verfes,  not  worth  repeating,  fix  of 
which  are  quoted  by  Bay>le  as  the  compofition  of 
Dante  hinifelf,  on  the  authority  of  Paulus  Jovius, 
in  1483.'— — Bernardo  Bembo,  the  father  of  the 
celebrated  Cardinal,  raifed  a  handfome  monument 
over  the  negledled  afhes  of  the  Poet,  with  the  follow- 
ing infcription ; 

Exigua  Tumuli  Danthes  hie  forte  jacebas  ; 
Squalafite  nulli  cognita  pane  Letu  ! 
At  nunc  marmoreo  fubnixus  conderis  arcu 
Omnibus  et  cultu  fplendidiora  nites, 
Nimirum  Bembus  7HuJis  in  cenfus  Etrufcis 
Hoc  iibi,  quern  in  primis  ha  coluere  dedit. 

Before  this  period  the  Florentines  had  vainly  en^ 
deavoured  to  gain  the  bones  of  their  great  Poet  from 
the  city  of  Ravenna.  In  the  age  of  Leo  the  tenth 
they  made  a  fecond  attempt,  by  a  folemn  application 
to  the  Pope  for  that  purpofe ;  and  the  great  Michael 
Angelo,  an  enthufiaftic  admirer  of  Dante,  very 
liberally  offered  to  execute  a  magnificent  monument 
to  the  Poet.  The  hopes  of  the  Florentines  were  again 
unfuccefsful :  The  particulars  of  their  unfuccefsful 
petition  may  be  found  in  the  notes  on  Codivi*s  life 
of  Michael  Angelo. 

Dante  is  defcribed  by  Boccacio,  as  a  man  of 
middle  flature ;  his  demeanour  was  folemn,  and  his 
walk  flow  ;  his  drefs  fuitable  to  his  rank  and  age  ;  his 
vifage  long,  his  nofe  aquiline,  his  eyes  full,  his  cheek- 
bones large,  and  upper  lip  a  little  projecting  over  the 
under  one ;  his  complexion  was'  olive,  his  hair  and  beard 
thick  and  curled.     This  gave  him  that  fmgularity  of 

afpedj 


Tl 


t   87   3 

afpe6tj  which  made  his  enemies  obferve,  that  he  looked 
like  one  who  had  vifited  the  infernal  regions. — His  de- 
portment, both  in  public  and  private  hfe,  was  regular 
and  exemplary,  and  his  moderation  in  eating  and 
drinking  remarkable. 

At  what  time,  and  in  what  place,  he  executed  the 
great  and  fmgular  work  which  has  rendered  his  name 
immortal,  his  numerous  commentators  feem  unable 
to  determine.  Boccacio  afferts,  that  he  began  it  in 
his  thirty-eighth  year,  and  had  finifhed  feven  Cantos 
of  his  Inferno  before  his  exile.  That  in  the  plunder 
of  his  houfe,  on  that  event,  the  beginning  of  his  poem 
was  fortunately  preferved,  but  remained  for  fome 
time  neglefted,  till  its  merit  being  accidentally  dif- 
covered  by  an  intelligent  Poet,  named  Ding,  it  was 
fent  to  the  Marquis  Marcello  Marespina,  an  Ita- 
lian nobleman,  by  whom  Dante  was  then  protected. 
The  Marquis  reflored  thefe  lofl  papers  to  the  Poet, 
and  intreated  him  to  proceed  in  the  work,  which  open- 
ed in  fo  promifmg  a  manner.  To  this  accident  we 
are  probably  indebted  for  the  Poem  of  Dante,  which 
he  mull  have  continued  under  all  the  difadvantages  of 
an  unfortunate  and  agitated  life. — It  does  not  appear 
at  what  time  he  compleated  it ;  perhaps  before  he 
quitted  Verona,  as  he  dedicated  the  Paradefo  to  his 
Veronefe  patron.  The  critics  have  varioully  accounted 
for  his  calling  this  Poem  Comedia. 

"  He  gave  it  that  title,"  fays  one  of  her  fons,  be- 
"  caufe  it  begins  with  diftrefs,  and  ends  with  felicity.'* 
The  very  high  eftimation  in  which  this  work  was  held 
in  Florence  appears  from  a  very  fmgular  inftitution* 
The  Republic  oi  Florence,  in  the  year  1373,  affigned 
a  public  llipend  to  a  perfon  appointed  to  read  ledures 

G  4  9n 


E    88    3 

on  the  Poem  of  Dante.  Boccacio  was  the  firft 
perfon  engaged  in  this  office,  but  his  death  happening 
two  years  after  his  appointment,  his  comment  extended 
only  to  the  firfl:  feventeen  Cantos  of  the  Inferno. 
Another  very  terrible  inftance  of  their  veneration  for 
their  native  bard  is  told  by  the  author  of  the  Memoires 
de  Petrarque,  Ceno  de  Afcoli,  a  celebrated  Phyfician 
and  Aftrologer,  had  the  boldnefs  to  write  parodies  on 
the  Poem  of  Dante.  This  drew  on  him  the  animad- 
verfion  of  the  Inquifition.  Charles,  Duke  of  Ca- 
labria,  thought  to  protefl:  him,  but  in  vain.  The 
biftiop  of  Avcr/a,  his  chancellor,  a  Cordelier,  declared 
that  it  was  highly  impious  to  entertain  a  forcerer  as  a 
phyfician.  There  was  no  bufinefs  done  then  without 
confulting  an  aftrologer,  yet  Charles  was  obliged  to 
refign  him  to  the  fecular  arm.  He  was  accordingly 
burnt  at  Florence,  about  three  years  after  the  death 
of  the  Poet  whom  he  had  maligned. 


END   OF    THE    LIFE   OF    DANTE. 


INTRODUCTION. 


'T~^HE  exordium  of  this  lingular  Poem  will  feem  a 
little  abrupt,  till  the  occafion  of  it  is  known* 
— At  Ltie  age  of  nine,  the  Poet  had  entertained  a  paf- 
fion  for  the  Lady,  whom  he  has  celebrated  in  his 
Poem  by  the  name  of  Beatrice.  This  pallion,  by 
his  own  account,  mud  have  been  of  the  pure  platonic 
kind,  and  feems  by  the  traces  it  has  left  in  this  extra- 
ordinary performance,  to  have  had  a  lajfting  effeft  upon 
iiim. 

In  one  of  his  early  works  he  gives  a  large  account 
of  its  rife  and  progrefs  ;  but  its  mod  fignal  confequence 
is  recorded  in  the  prefent  Poem. — According  to  his 
own  account,  when  his  Beatrice  had  taken  the  veil, 
his  platonic  paffion  was  gradually  debafed  into  purfuits 
of  a  lefs  elevated  nature ;  and  by  his  allegory  of  the 
Panther,  Lion,  and  Wolf,  in  the  firft  Canto,  we  may 
conclude,  that  he  had  given  way  by  turns  to  the  fug- 
geftions  of  fenfuality,  ambition,  and  avarice. — This 
ambition,  however,  was  the  principal  fource  of  his 
following  misfortunes. 

His  own  account  of  his  unfortunate  lapfe ;  the  va- 
rious methods  the  fpirit  of  Beatrice  had  tried,  to 
reclaim  him  before  her  deceafe  ;  and  the  final  accom- 
plifliment  of  his  Conversion,  are  to  be  found  in  the 
thirtieth  Canto  of  his  Purgatorio. 

I  That 


[    9°    ] 


That  the  fubjeft  of  the  following  Poem  was  fug- 
gefted  to  him  in  fome  of  thefe  dreams,  in  which  his 
Beatrice  ufed  "  to  vifit  his  flumbers  nightly,"  fcems 
more  probable,  than  that  he  took  the  hint  from  a 
no6lui*al  reprefentation  of  the  infernal  regions  on  the 
river  Anio.  Even  before  his  misfortunes,  the  Poet 
was  remarkable  for  a  gloomy  and  contemplative  turn 
of  mind ;  and  the  ideas  of  abftradion  from  mortal 
cares,  which  he  had  learned  from  his  miflrefs,  com- 
bating with  his  ambition,  muft  have  occafioned  ftrong 
convulfions  in  a  mind  like  his,  ardent  and  active,  but 
feafoned  with  fchool  divinity  and  platonic  notions.  We 
are  not  then  to  confider  this  work  as  merely  an  acrimo- 
nious fatire,  compofed  in  the  bitternefs  of  exile ;  on 
the  contrary,  as  part  of  it  was  written  before  the  conL- 
mencement  of  his  misfortunes,  while  he  was  yet  in 
profperity  and  affluence,  it  appears  the  vigorous  ef- 
fervefcence  of  a  ferious  and  refleding  mind,  deeply 
tindured  indeed  with  enthufiafm,  but  verfed  in  all  the 
learning  of  the  times. — ^The  mode  of  conveying  the 
creations  of  fancy,  and  the  precepts  of  morality,  in  a 
in/ton,  or  dream,  was  already  familiar  from  the  works 
of  the  Proven9al  Poets,  or  Troubadours ;  a  mode 
"which  continued  to  the  end  of  the  fixteenth  century9 
and  feems  peculiarly  adapted  to  convey  the  moft  vi^ 
gorous  efforts  of  the  imagination. 


1 


THE 


INFERNO 


OF 


DANTE    ALEGHIERI. 


CANTO  THE  FIRST. 


fe 


CANTO   THE   FIRST. 


ARGUMENT, 

The  Poet  in  a  Vifion,  or  Dream,  finds  himfelf  in  the  middle  of  a 
pathlefs  wood,  befet  with  Beafts  of  Prey,  which  he  attempts  in 
vain  to  efcape,  till  he  is  accofted  by  the  Spirit  of  Firgil;  who 
advifes  him  not  to  attempt  the  common  road,  but  to  follow  his 
guidance,  through  a  dark  and  fubterraneous  paffage. 


When  life  had  labourM  up  her  midmoft  ftage. 
And,  weary  with  her  mortal  pilgrimage. 

Stood  in  fufpenfe  upon  the  point  of  Prime  j 
Far  in  a  pathlefs  grove  I  chanc'd  to  ftray, 
Where  fcarce  imagination  dares  difplay, 

The  gloomy  fcen'ry  of  the  favage  clime. 

II. 

On  the  deep  horrors  of  the  tangled  dell. 

With  dumb  difmay,  the  pow'rs  of  mem'ry  dwell. 

Scenes,  terrible  as  dark  impending  fate  ! 
Yet  tell,  O  mufe  !  what  intelleftual  ftore 
I  glean*d  along  the  folitary  fhore. 

And  fmg  in  louder  ftrains  the  heav'niy  freight. 

III. 


C    94    ] 


1 


1 


m. 

Whether  entrancM,  I  left  the  certain  path, 
'Rapt  in  a  vifion,  to  the  vale  of  death, 

(Such  fl umbers  feal'd  my  fenfe)  is  all  unknown  i 
Yet  down  the  glen,  that  fill'd  my  foul  with  fright, 
I  ftray*d  : — ^when  lo  !  an  hill's  aerial  height. 

Veiled  with  glory,  met  the  rifmg  fun. 

IV. 

Now  fled  my  fear,  that  thro*  the  toilfome  night 
The  vital  current  froze,  and  urg'd  my  flight, 

When  the  fad  moments  of  defpair  I  told. 
Then,  like  a  toil-worn  mariner  I  flood, 
Who^  newly  fcap'd  the  perils  of  the  flood. 

Turns  him  again  the  danger  to  behold. 

V. 

Thus  all  the  horrors  of  that  hideous  coaft, 
That  dreary  wild  by  mortal  never  croft, 

I  ponder'd  o*er,  exhaufted  as  I  lay : 
Then  up  the  hill,  that  o'er  the  valley  hung. 
With  new  recover'd  pow'rs  inftindive  fprung ; 

Eafmg  with  planted  ftep  the  toilfome  way. 

VI. 

When  lo !    a  Panther  in  the  op'ning  ftrait, 
Couchant,  with  flaming  eyes,  expecting  fat, 

All  formidably  gay,  in  fpeckl'd  pride. 
Sufpenfe,  I  fought  to  Ihun  the  dubious  war, 
But  the  grim  tyrant  of  the  woods  afar  * 

Still  oppofite  his  prey,  malignant  ey'd# 

VIL 

♦  By  the  Panther,  the  Lion,  and  the  Wolf  that  befet  Dante 
in  this  gloomy  valcj  i«  meant  (fay  the  Commentators)  "  the  three 

"  reigor 


[    95    ] 

VII. 

Sweet  rofe  the  vernal  morn,  for  now  the  fun 
With  thofe  fair  lights  his  jocund  race  begun, 

That  faw  with  fpringing  time  the  hand  of  love 
Strike  from  the  fullen  deep  the  feeds  of  life, 
And  from  the  mafs  of  elemental  ftrife, 

Elance  yon  burning  orbs  that  roll  above. 

VIII. 

The  chearful  morn,  and  fpring's  benignant  fmile. 
New  hope  infpir'd,  to  feize  the  gaudy  fpoil. 

And  with  the  fpeckled  hide  my  limbs  invert; ; 
But  other  cares  the  childifh  hope  with-held. 
For  other  thoughts  the  rage  of  combat  quell'd. 

And  the  warm  inflind  of  my  foul  fuppreft. 

IX. 

For  following  clofe  behind,  a  fiercer  foe, 
(With  rage  and  famine  feem'd  his  eyes  to  glow) 

A  Lion  fhook  his  long  terrific  mane : 
The  hufh'd  winds  feem'd  his  dreadful  look  to  fear. 
A  famifli'd  Wolf  attendant  in  the  rear. 

Like  fome  gaunt  fur)^,  clos'd  the  deadly  train. 

"  reigning  vices  of  the  three  ftagcs  of  human  life,  fenfuality,  ambi- 
**  tion,  and  avarice," — 

A  plague  well  known  on  many  a  wafted  fhore, — St.  lo. 

It  is  certain,  that  the  Poet's  three  grand  divifions  of  the  Infernal 
Regions  correfpond,  in  a  good  meafure,  with  the  diftinftion  he 
ipakes  here ;  the  upper  apartments  being  allotted  principally  to 
the  lovers  of  fenfuality,  the  middle  to  ambition,  and  the  lowed  to 
the  tribes  of  avarice. 

X. 


C     9^    1 
X. 

I-Iis  look  bctray'd  unbounded  thirft  of  gore, 
A  plague  well  known  on  many  a  wafted  (hore ; 

Again  I  left  the  height,  by  fear  oppreft. 
Thus  the  reward  of  many  a  toilfome  day. 
In  one  difaflrous  moment  fnatch'd  away. 

With  difappointment  chills  the  widofw*d  breads 

XI. 

I  fled ;  {he  follow*d  down  the  dreary  dell,  * 
The  fun  retiring,  Iook*d  a  fad  farewell ; 

'Till  ev*ry  lingering  hope  my  foul  forfook : 
Thus,  while  I  (lray*d  along  in  dumb  defpair, 
A  beckoning  fliadow  faintly  feen  afar, 

With  flill,  fmall  voice,  the  dreary  filence  broken 

xn. 

*'  Whether  of  Heav*n,"  I  cryM,  "  or  earthly  bom. 
Extend  thy  pity  to  a  wretch  forlorn/* 

I  fpoke,  and  thus  reply'd  the  gentle  Ihade : 
Not  earthly  now,  tho*  born  of  human  race. 
From  Lombard  fwains  my  lowly  birth  I  trace, 

Ere  Julius  yet  the  Roman  fceptre  fway*d." 

*  By  the  Poet*8  attempting  to  force  the  pafs  befet  with  monfters, 
the  commentators  fay,  is  meant  that  prefumption  which  attempts 
to  encounter  and  make  its  way  through  the  views  and  miferies  of 
human  life,  without  attending  to  the  light  of  reafon,  which  is  here 
introduced  under  the  charafter  of  the  fpirit  of  Virgil. — For  the 
fuggeftions  of  Reafon  on  a  future  ftate — See  the  Comparative  Vievf' 
of  the  Inferno,  Sec. 

XIII. 


[    97    3 

XIIL 
**  Me  thence  to  Rome,  his  great  fucceflbr  led, 
While  yet  the  pow'rs  of  darknefs  held  in  dread 

The  world,  unconfcious  of  their  coming  doom. 
Arms  and  the  Man  I  fung,  who  fent  by  fate. 
On  Troy's  fad  reliques  rais'd  a  nobler  flate. 

And  the  long  glories  of  majeftic  Rome. 

XIV. 
"  Say,  what  detains  thy  ling'ring  feet  below. 
On  yonder  hill  eternal  pleafures  blow ; 

To  this  Cimmerian  vale,  can  aught  invite  ?" 
'*  If  Maro's  name  be  thine,"  abafh'd,  I  cry'd, 
*'  That  fource  which  fent  thro'  many  a  region  wide 

Such  living  torrents  of  poetic  light : 

XV. 
*'  Hail !  Father  of  the  Song !  if  filial  awe. 
With  which  I  trac'd  of  old  thy  facred  law. 

Can  aught  the  pupil  of  thy  mufe  avail ; 
If  in  fome  happier  line,  thy  fpirit  breathe, 
If  thefe  bleft  temples  own  thy  lineal  wreath. 

Oh !  teach  thy  fon,  yon'  ^vy'd  heights  to  fcale. 

XVI. 
*'  Where'er  I  wander  thro'  the  glimm'ring  fhade. 
Fate  Couches  near  in  deadly  ambufcade, 

And  chilly  dews  my  fhiv'ring  members  fteep : 
See  !  where  (he  waits,  her  victim  to  furprife  !'* 
"  Another  path  is  thine,"  the  Poet  cries, 

"  To  lead  tliee  from  the  valley  dark  and  djeep." 

St.  xiii.  /.  4.3    Dryden. 

Vol.  I.  H 


C    98    J 

I  wept,  while  gently  thus  my  guardian  God : 
'*  Avoid  yon'  dajk  and  unaufpicious  road, 

By  Fiends  frequented,  and  by  fate  o'erhungj 
M'^nfter  fo  fell,  Nuniidia  never  bore. 
As  fhe,  who  riots  there  in  human  gore. 

By  unextinguifhable  famine  flung. 

XVIII. 
*'  The  Fiend  her  hunger  tries  to  fate  in  vain. 
Still  grows  her  *appetite  with  growing  pain. 

And  ceafelefs  rapine  feeds  the  rifmg  blaze  ; 
Then,  filPd  by  many  a  Sire,  the  noxious  peft 
Shall  propagate  along  from  eafl  to  weft, 

Till  Feltro's  noble  Hound  begins  the  chace. 

XIX. 
"  From  Feltro's  noble  heir  fhe  meets  her  fate, 
Feltro  !  a  name  intrinfically  great. 

Above  the  little  aid  of  gtms  or  gold  ; 
His  truth  and  worth  the  haraf'^'d  land  fhall  fave 
Where  Nisus  fills  an  honourable  grave. 

For  which  Camilla  fell,  and  Turnus  bold. 

-^"^'•-'-  XX. 

"  Then  Hell  fliall  gorge  her  own  infernal  brood, 

To  envy's  caverp  by  the  foe  purfu'd. 

Whence  firft  to  hght  the  baleful  being  fprungj  . 
But  Heav'n  in  love  to  thee  hath  fent  me  here 
A  kind  and  faithful  guide — difmifs  thy  fear. 

Thro*  other  worlds  to  lead  thy  ftcps  along. 

St.  xviii.  L  6r\  An  allufion  to  the  name  of  Cane  la  scala, 
the  generous  Patron  of  Dante,  who  gave  him  an  honourable  and 
friendly  reception  in  hi*  €:<ile. 


I 


[     99     ] 

XXI. 

*'  Thine  ears  muft  meet  the  yell  of  ftern  defpair. 
Where  Heav'n's  avenging  hand  forgets  to  fpare, 

And  tribes  forlorn  a  fecond  death  implore : 
Then  thofe  that  fmg  amid  the  purging  flame, 
infpir'd  by  lingering  hope  at  laft  to  claim 

A  tardy  wafture  to  the  happy  (hore. 

XXII. 
*'  Profcrib'd,  I  thence  retire,  and  one  fucceeds 
Heav'n's  Denizen,  whofe  happier  guidance  leads, 

(If  thou  afpire)  the  feats  of  blifs  to  gain  : 
For  he  that  holds  the  univerfe  in  awe 
My  foul  excludes,  an  alien  to  his  law. 

From  the  dread  glories  of  his  heav'nly  reign. 

XXIII. 
*'  With  incommunicable  fplendour  bright, 
In  the  high  citadel  of  life  and  light, 

The  Sire  of  being  fits  in  regal  ft  ate  ; 
Thrice  happy  he  that  fhares  the  gladfome  ray. 
Where  in  the  precincls  of  eternal  day 

His  chofen  faints  the  holy  influence  wait. 
XXIV. 
"  Then,  by  that  Heav'n,  and  Heav'n-taught  mufe,"  I 
"  From  this  ill  omen'd  vale  thy  pupil  guide,      [cry'd. 

And  teach  my  feet  to  fliun  the  fatal  fhore ; 
Shew  where  the  finners  mourn  their  ftated  time 
'Till  Peter  call  them  to  an  happier  chme." 

I  fpoke,  the  Bard  in  filence  fped  before. 

END  OF   THE    FIRST   CANTO. 
K2 


CANTO    THE    SECOND. 


ARGUMENT. 
The  Spirit  of  Viroil  opens  his  Miflion,  and  tells  the  Poet  that 
he  was  fent  to  refcue  him  from  the  vifionary  Beafts  of  Prey,  his 
fpiritual  and  mortal  Enemies;  by  fhewinghim  the  Secrets  of  the 
three  Worlds,  Hell,  Purgatory,  and  Paradise. — The 
Poet  objeds,  that  his  human  frailty  is  unable  to  bear  fuch  Scenes; 
but  he  is  encouraged  by  his  ghollly  Guide,  and  led  to  the  Gate 
of  the  Infernal  Regions. 


LvIGHT  flowly  fuiik,  atid  left  the  glimm'ring  weft, 
And  night*s  dun  robe  the  weary  world  o*ercaft ; 

I  only  woke  to  labour  and  to  woe  j 
With  faithful  glafs,  the  peril  and  the  pain 
Fancy  reflects,  and  breathes  the  fervent  ftrain 

That  fmgs  the  fecrets  of  the  world  below. 

II. 

Ye  powers  of  mind !  and  thou,  whofe  ready  hand 
Sketch'd  the  dire  vifion  of  the  burning  ftrand. 

And  fcann'd  the  horrors  of  the  darkfome  way ! 
Oh  !  fpread  your  glories  o*er  ihcfombfous  fcene, 
Decking  her  fhade  with  thy  perennial  green. 

And  thine  ennobling  power  at  large  difplay. 

H3 


[       I02       ] 
III. 

"  Prince  of  the  Roman  Lay  !  illuftrlous  Guide, 
Oh  !  try  the  temper  of  my  foul,"  I  cry'd, 

"  Ere  yet  thy  pupil  dares  the  dubious  path  ; 
Shall  I  prefumc,  tho'  great  ^Eneas  dar*d 
To  meet  the  terrors  of  the  Stygian  guard. 

And  trace,  in  duft  enfhrin'd,  the  vale  of  death  ? 

IV. 

**  For  him,  the  fortunes  of  his  Line  prevail'd, 
Ere  Clotho  yet  his  final  fentence  feal'd. 

To  pafs  the  (hadovvy  gate,  and  darldbme  way ; 
Hell's  high  Controller  faw  his  mighty  foul, 
Saw  the  long  glories  of  his  line  unroll. 

And  gave  his  fanclion  to  the  bold  eflay. 

V. 

*'  To  Empire  bom  he  feem'd  in  reafon's  eye. 
And  fated  by  the  fanction  of  the  fky 

To  found  the  fortunes  of  vidorious  Rome ; 
There  too,  his  feat  the  great  Apoflle  chofe, 
And  the  mild  kingdom  of  Emmanuel  rofe 

On  Tyber  fix'd,  by  Fate's  eternal  doom. 

St.  iii.  /.  I.]  Dante  feems  to  be  ftruck  here  with  the  natural  ap- 
prchenfions  of  a  man  entering  into  an  unknown  ftate.  It  is  remark- 
able that  ia  Virgil  we  fee  none  of  thefe  fears  in  jEneas  (at  leaft 
before  his  entrance  into  the  Infernal  Vault) — Though  it  is  certain 
that  we  are  not  fo  much  affccled  with  any  thing,  however  well  de- 
fcribed,  as  when  we  fee  others  affefted  ftrongly  with  it,  the  pailions 
workmoft  powerfuHy  by  refleftion  and  fympathy. — See  Mason's 
Letters  on  ELFRinA,  &c. 


I 


[   103   ] 
vr. 

"  Still  lives  the  Chief  in  thine  unequalM  fong, 
Still  Heav'n  conduds  his  daring  fteps  along, 

And  (hews  the  papal  gown,  the  laurel  wreath ; 
Erft  too  the  chofen  man  of  Tarfiis  rode 
On  rapture's  wing  to  yonder  bright  abode, 

And  brought  down  heav*nly  grace  to  fuccour  faith. 

VII. 
*'  Should  I  with  heroes  and  with  faints  prefume 
To  pierce  the  viewlefs  world  beyond  the  tomb, 

And  trace  the  hallowM  path  with  feet  profane ; 
Would  not  thefe  feeble  limbs  their  trull  betray, 
Should  I  attempt  the  interdided  way  ? 

Say,  (for  thou  know'ft,)  were  not  the  trial  vain  ?'* 

VIII. 
Like  one,  who,  fome  imagin'd  peril  near. 
Feels  his  warm  wifhes  chill'd  by  wint'ry  fear. 

And  refolution  ficken  at  the  view. 
Thus  I  perceiv'd  my  linking  fpirits  fail. 
Thus  trembling,  I  furvey'd  the  gloomy  vale. 

As  near  the  moment  of  decifion  drew. 
IX. 
**  Speak'ft  thou  thy  thought !"    the  dauntlefs  firade 
"  Difhonour'd  ever  be  that  foul  unwife,  Replies  j 

That  takes  to  counfel  cold  fuggefting  fear ! 
Unmanly  fear,  that  chains  the  lib'ral  mind. 
And  fills  with  dreadful  fhapes  the  paffing  wind ; — 

But  thou  refolve,  and  fcorn  to  linger  here  ! 

5/.  vi.A  4.]    St.  Paul, 
H4 


[     I04     1 
X. 

**  High-favourM  mortal!  hear  the  wondrous  caiifc 
That  broke  the  chain  of  fate's  eternal  laws, 

And  led  me  here,  a  difembodied  ghofl: ! 
How  thrilling  from  above,  the  fhaft  of  woe 
Awoke  my  pity  in  the  fields  below, 

For  thy  fad  wand'ruigs  on  the  haunted  coaft ! 

XL 

*'  Exiles  of  either  world,  a  band  forlorn 

For  ever  wanders  round  th*  ambiguous  bourne, 

Of  joy  unconfcious,  tho'  exempt  from  woe  ; 
Of  them  was  I,  when,  lo  !  a  radiant  form, 
Whofe  angel-afpeft  breath'd  an  heavenly  charm, 

Drew  me,  exulting,  frorh  the  depths  below.*' 

XII. 

Star-like  her  eyes — ^but  feem'd  fufFus*d  with  woe, 
As  thus  flie  fpoke,  in  accents  foft  and  flow ; 

*'  Poet !  whofe  fame  fhall  reach  from  fea  to  fea, 
"  'Till  Heav'n's  eternal  orbs  forget  to  roll, 
'*  Oh !  halle  thee  hence !  and  fave  a  fmking  foul, 

"  Forlorn  by  fortune,  yet  belov'd  by  me.'* 

XIII. 
*'  1  fear,  I  fear,  my  fuccour  comes  too  late ; 
"  For  fee !  he  flruggles  in  the  toils  of  fate, 

"  Befet  by  Fiends  in  terrible  array  ! 
"  Portentous  rumours  fadden  all  the  iky ! 
"  But  go,  thy  foft  perfuafive  arts  apply 

"  To  lead  ths  wand'rer  from  the  fateful  way. 


•^1 


t  ^05   3 

XIV. 

**  Beatrice  fends  thee  to  the  world  above, 
^'  (Her  bofom  throbbing  with  eternal  love 

"  That  leads  her  from  the  fount  of  pure  delight) 
"  In  mercy  to  oppofe  his  mad  career ; 
*'  Where  yonder  paths  to  fwift  deflruftion  bear 

*'  She  hovers  on  the  bounds  of  ancient  night. 

XV. 

*'  Go,  gentle  mufe  1  and  when  my  anthems  rife, 
*'  Where  Heav*n*s  loud  chorus  charms  the  lift'ning  Ikies, 
'  "  One  thankful  (train  fliall  yet  remember  thee  1" 
She  ceas*d,  and  thus  her  wifli  my  anfwer  crown'd  : 
*'  Prompt  at  thy  will,  and  to  thy  orders  bound 
"  Thy  faithful  delegate,  thy  fervant  fee ! 

XVI. 

*'  Spirit  benign !  whofe  difentangled  foul, 

"  Thy  brethren  taught  to  fpurn  the  nether  goal, 

"  Pierce  the  blue  mundane  fliell,  and  claim  the  fky; 
"  Such  energy  attends  thy  warm  requefl 
"  That  my  flrong  wifh  outruns  my  winged  hafte, 

"  Nor  need  you  more  your  holy  influence  try. 

xvn. 

"  But  fay !  what  motive  arm'd  thy  gentle  fprite 
"  To  pafs  the  barriers  of  eternal  night, 

"  And  view  the  fecrets  of  the  central  deep ! 
"  What  prompts  thee  to  forfake  the  happy  choir, 
**  Which  warms  thy  fpirlt  with  inftin(3ive  fire, 

"  Again  to  mount  and  fcale  the  heav'nl^  fleep  J" 

4 


C     To6     ] 

xvm. 

"  Since  thou  enquir*fl  fo  clofe,'*  the  vifion  fald, 
"  Know — Heav'nly  mercy  to  the  Stygian  (hade 

"  Attends  my  flight,  and  wards  the  fliaft  of  pain  : 
"  She  fooths  yon'  burnings,  and  ferenes  the  gloom  j 
*'  *Tis  only  then  our  haughty  hearts  prei'ume 

"  When  danger  threats,  and  we  tlie  threat  difdain. 

XIX. 

"  More  than  one  heav'nly  bread  his  perils  move, 
"  Whofe  mortal  feet  the  dang'rous  pafTage  prove ; 

*'  Ev'n  Charity  was  feen  with  ftreaming  eyes 
"  Before  the  footftool  of  her  angry  God, 
"  Warding  with  gentle  hand  the  lifted  rod, 

*'  While  thus  her  liquid  accents  charm'd  the  fkies. 

XX. 

^^  Ah  !  gentle  huci Ay  hajle  !   thy  fuppUant fave  ; 
"  See  ivhat  dire  Jh apes  around  their  viBim  rave  ; 

"  And  fee  hew  forroiv  bends  his  tortur^  d  frame  /** 
The  Seraph  fhudder*d  at  the  piteous  fight. 
And  down  the  deep  abyfs  of  parting  light 

On  wings  of  hafte  the  gentle  vifion  came. 

XXI. 
Apart,  I  fat,  in  her  fequefter'd  bow'r. 
Who,  with  her  fifter,  fhar'd  the  nuptial  dow'r ; 

When  thus  the  Saint:  "0/6/  lovd  of  Heaven,  attend! 
"  Canft  thou  behold  the  favoured  of  thy  choice, 
"  Raised  from  the  croud  by  thy  infpiring  voice, 

"  Thro^  yonder  vale  his  painful  journey  bend? 

St.  xxi.  I.  I ."]     Rachel. 


[     107     ] 

xxir. 

"  Hark  !  his  lamentings  mingle  with  the  gale  ; 
**  See!  Death^s  fell  ambuJJj  lines  the  glooviy  vale, 

"  A?id  the  black  torrejit  whelms  the  finking  ^rand.^* 
*'  She  ceas'd,  nor  fpeedier  to  the  realms  of  day 
*'  The  difembodied  fpirit  wings  her  way, 

"  Than  I  obey*d  the  Seraph's  high  command. 

XXIII. 

''  Hither  from  heavenly  thrones  I  fped  my  flight, 
"  And  bore  the  horrors  of  eternal  night, 

*'  If  haply  thou  would*ft  deign  thy  pious  aid  ; 
*'  Trufting  that  mufe,  which  to  thy  mighty  name 
"  And  to  thy  followers  won  eternal  fame. 

"  Then  hear  my  fervent  pray'r,  illuftrious  (hade  !** 

XXIV. 

"  Soon  hither,  at  the  weeping  Saint's  defire, 
"  Upward  I  flew,  and  left  the  Stygian  choir  : 

"  Then  why  thofe  cold  remains  of  lingering  fear ! 
*^'  I  point  a  way  to  fliun  the  favage  foe, 
*'  His  are  the  heights,  but  thine  the  pafs  below  ; 

*'  Go  boldly  then,  and  view  its  dangers  near ! 

XXV. 

"  Yet  do'fl  thou  fear  ? — applauding  Heav*n  above 
"  Sends  her  three  Saints,  a  family  of  love ! 

*'  With  me  to  lead  thee  from  the  deadly  vale." 
He  faid,  and  Hope  expell'd  my  fears  away, 
As  dewy  flow'rets  on  a  morn  of  May, 

Their  bofoms  open,  and  their  tears  exhale. 


[     to8     3 

XXVI. 

Thus  I  perceivM  my  glowing  brcaft  expand, 
And  now  the  dangers  of  the  dubious  ftrand 

Secure  I  pondered  with  intrepid  foul. 
Then,  boldly  cryM,  "  Oh  !  Spirit  ever  bled ! 
Whofe  pity  reaches  from  the  realms  of  reft. 

And  bids  ev*n  Hell  her  deadly  rage  control ; 

XXVII. 

'*  All  hail ! — and  thou,  whofe  ready  flight  obcy'd^ 
Whofe  welcome  voice  my  fainting  courage  ftay'd. 
And  thine  ovm  fpirit  breath'd,  divinely  ftrong  ! 
Condud  my  willing  fteps.'* — I  cheerful  cry'd. 
And  boldly  follow'd  my  celeflial  guide 
Down  that  Cimmerian  vale,  with  horror  hung* 


1 


n\ 


END    OF    THE    SECOND    CANTO* 


CANTO  THE  THIRD*. 


ARGUMENT. 

The  Poet,  condu<fted  by  the  Spirit  of  Virgil  along  a  deep  and 
gloomy  Vale,  finds  the  entrance  to  the  Infernal  Regions,  and 
fees,  over  the  Gate,  an  Infcription  fuitable  to  the  place  ;  which 
territies  him  fo  much,  that  he  is  on  the  point  of  relinquifhing  the 
Enterprife.  Virgil  re-animates  his  courige,  and  leading  him 
dowTi  the  horrid  Avenue,  fhews  him  the  Punilhment  of  the 
Neutrals,  and  Indolent;  a  mixed  multitude  of  the  Spirits, 
who  had  joined  neither  Party,  on  the  Rebellion  of  Satan;  and 
of  them,  who  in  this  Life,  neither  deferved  Glory  nor  Infamy. 


1  HRO*  me,  the  newly -damrC  d  for  ever  fleet ^, 
In  ceafelefs  JJjoab,  to  Pain's  eternal  feat ; 

Thro^  me  they  march,  and  join  the  tortured  crew. 
The  mighty  gulph  offended  fufiice  made  ; 
Unbounded  pow'r  the  fir  ong  foundation  laid. 
And  Love,  by  Wifdom  led,  the  limits  drew, 

*  The  abrupt  opening  of  this  Canto,  with  the  folemn  Infcription 
over  the  Gate  of  Hell,  has  a  linking  and  fingular  effed. 

St.  i.  /.  6.]  That  Love  to  the  general  welfare  that  muft  induce  a 
moral  Governor  to  enforce  his  laws  by  the  fandion  ef  punifliment*  ; 
as  here  a  miilaken  humanity  is  cruelty. 


C    no   3 
II. 

*'  Long  ere  the  infant  world  arcfe  to  Hgbi, 
I  found  a  being  in  the  womb  of  night. 

Eldejl  of  all — but  things  that  ever  laji  ! — 

And  I  for  ever  laji  ! Te  heirs  of  Hell, 

Here  bid  at  once  your  lingering  hope  farewell. 

And  mourn  the  inoment  of  repentance  pajl  /'* 

III. 
This  falutation  fad  mine  eyes  amazM, 
As  on  the  high  Plutonian  arch  I  gazM, 
•  In  dark  and  dreadful  charadlers  pourtray'd, 
"  How  dire  the  menace  of  the  Stygian  fcroll  !'* 
With  deep  concern  I  cry'd;  the  Mantuan  foul. 
With  friendly  words  my  fmking  fpirits  flay'd. 

IV. 

*'  Let  no  unmanly  thought  the  place  profane, 
The  fated  hour  commands  you  to  reftrain 

The  fickly  fancies  bred  by  wayward  fear  ! 
This  is  the  fcene  I  promis'd  to  unfold. 
The  regions  of  Eternal  Wrath  behold ! 

Nor  tremble  to  furvey  her  terrors  near ! 

V. 

**  Here  thofe,  in  fearch  of  blifs  who  madly  ftray'd 
From  reafon's  path,  by  pafTion's  lure  betray'd. 

Lament  the  fad  refult !"  then  down  the  fteep 
With  new-born  hope  his  mate  the  Mantuan  led. 
Where  wide  before  my  wond'ring  eyes  were  fpread 

The  horrid  fecrets  of  the  boundlefs  deep. 


[  III  ] 

VI. 

Thence,  Oh  !  what  wailings  from  the  abjeiEl  throng 
Around  the  ftarlefs  fky  inceflant  rung  ; 

The  (hort,  fhrill  Ihriek,  and  long  refounding  groan, 
The  thick  fob,  panting  thro'  the  cheerlefs  air. 
The  lamentable  ftrain  of  fad  defpair, 

And  blafphemy,  with  fierce  relentlefs  tone. 

VII. 

Vollying  around,  the  full,  infernal  choir. 
Barbarian  tongues,' and  plaints,  and  words  of  ire, 

(With  oft'  between  the  harfh  inflicted  blow) 
In  loud  difcordance  from  the  tribes  forlorn 
Tumultuous  rofe,  as  in  a  whirlwind  borne. 

With  execrations  mix'd,  and  murmurs  low. 

VIII. 

Struck  with  difmay,  "  What  founds  are  thefe,'*  I  cry'd, 
*'  And  who  are  thofe  that  fill  the  gloomy  void  ? 

Their  crimes,  their  tortures  tell."  When  thus  theBard: 
"  Behold  th'  ignoble  fons  of  floth  and  fhame. 
Who  fcom'd  alike  the  voice  of  praife,  and  blame, 

Nor  dreaded  puniihment,  nor  fought  reward. 

St.  viii.  /.  5.]]  Before  we  fee  the  jullice  of  the  punifliment  de- 
fcribed  here,  we  are  to  confider  how  general  rules  of  morality  come 
firft  to  hs  formed.  As  we  naturally  wifh  our  aftions  fhould  be  the  ob- 
jedls  of  approbation,  we  naturaUy  wifh  at  firft  to  pleafe  every  body  ; 
but,  finding  that  by  pleafmg  one,  we  run  the  rifque  of  difpleafing 
another,  from  the  natural  partialities  of  mankind,  we  loarn  to  form  to 
otirfelves  another  fort  of  a  judge,an  impartial  fpedator,  who  neither 

being 


C   '12   ] 

IX. 

**  Mingled  they  march  with  that  dcgenVate  brood. 
Who,  when  the  Rebel  of  the  iky  withflood    • 

His  Tov'reign  I^ord,  aloof  their  fquadrons  held  : 
Viewing  with  felfifli  eye  the  fierce  debate. 
Till,  from  the  confines  of  the  heav'nly  (late. 

Trembling  they  faw  the  rebel  hgll  expell'd. 

being  connefted  with  us,  nor  with  any  party  of  men  with  whom  we 
aft,  will,  on  that  account,  form  the  moft  juft  opinion  of  our  aftions : 
For,  as  wc  might  be  partial  to  ourfelves,  the  people  whom  our  ac- 
tions concern  might  be  partial  to  themfelves  ;  but  this  perfon,  thi$ 
imaginar)-  judge,  abflrafted  from  either  party,  fees  the  a<Elion  as  it 
really  is,  not  through  the  mifts  of  paffion  or  prejudice. — If  the 
fentiments  of  this  judge  coincide  with  our  notions  of  ourfelves,  if 
we  think  f^h  an  impartial  fpeftator  would  approve  our  conduft, 
our  fatisfaftion  is  complete,  in  fpite  of  the  partial  cenfure  of  our 
companions.  If  we  think  this  impartial  judge  will  condemn  u«,  all 
the  applaufe  in  the  world  cannot  fatisfy  us. — Self-Love  can  only 
be  correfted  by  the  eye  of  this  impartial  fpeftator:  It  is  he  that 
fhews  us  the  propriety  of  gciierofity  and  the  deformity  of  injuftice  ; 
the  propriety  of  refigning  the .  greateil  iuterefts  of  our  own,  for  the 
ftill  greater  interells  of  others,  when  the  happincfs  or  miferj'  of  others 
depends  in  any  inflance  on  our  conduft,  we  dare  not  (as  felf-Love 
would  fugged  to  us)  prefer  any  little  interefl  of  our  own,  to  the 
yet  greater  intereft  of  our  neighbour ;  we  feel  that  we  fhould  become 
the  proper  objefts  of  the  refentment  and  indignation  of  our  bre- 
thren ;  fo  that  befides  the  love  of  our  nei^bour,  there  is  a  ftronger 
love,  a  more  powerful  affeftion,  that  incites  us  to  the  praftice  of 
the  fublimeft.  virtues,  it  is  the  love  of  jufti«e,  the  love  of  what  is 
honourable  and  noble,  the  love  of  the  grandeur,  dignity,  and  fupe. 
riority  of  our  own  charafter. 

From  thefe  fentiments,  the  general  rules  of  morality  are  formed  ; 
for  an  amiable  aftion,  «i  rcfpcfUxhle  aftion,  an  horrid  aflion,  are  fuch 


C    1^3    3 

X. 

"  Nor  bore  the  vidlor-Lord  the  alien  race, 
But  flraight,  the  foul  pollution  to  efface, 

Hurl'd  them  indignant  from  the  bounds  of  light  t 
This  frontier  then  the  daftard  crew  received. 
Nor  deeply  damn'd,  altho'  of  blifs  bereav'd, 

And  doom'd  to  wander  on  the  verge  of  night  j 

XL 

"  They  fufFer  here,  left  yon'  more  guilty  train 

Of  crimes  unequal,  doom'd  to  equal  pain,       [boaft/* 

Blafpheming  Heav*n,    fhould  make  their  impious 
Quick  I  rejoin'd  :  "  If  giv'n  by  fate  to  know, 
"Whence  then  thofe  wailings  of  eternal  woe 

Wafted  in  anguifh  from  the  abje£t  hoft  ?" 


as  excite  the  love,  the  refpeft,  or  the  horror  of  the  impartial  ipec- 
tator,  for  fuch  perfons  as  perform  them :  Then  the  general  rules 
which  determine  what  aftibns  are,  and  what  are  not,  capable  to 
raife  fuch  fehtiments,  can  only  be  formed,  by  obferving  what  ac- 
tions do,  and  what  do  not  raife  thefe  fentiments — from  thefe  fenti- 
ments  we  form  general  rules,  by  appealing  to  which  we  try  parti- 
cular aftions,  of  what  fort  they  are.  It  is  the  obfervation  of  thefe 
general  rules,  that  general  regard  to  what  the  impartial  part  of  the 
world  thinks  of  him,  that  makes  a  very  efiential  difference  betweea 
a  man  of  principle  and  a  worthlefs  fellow. — The  one  adheres  to  his 
maxims,  and  afts  with  one  uniform  tenour  of  condudl ;  the  other 
afts  as  humour,  inchnation,  or  intereft,  chance  to  be  uppermoft, 
without  any  regard  to  the  fentiments  of  the  world. — So  true  it  is, 
that  he  who  defpifes  fame,  defpifes  virtue,  and  mufl  feem,  to  the 
eye  of  impartial  reafon  at  leaft,  equally  liable  to  punifhment  with 
him  that  has  fallen  a  viftim  to  a  fudden  gufl  of  paflion.  Sec 
Smith's  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments, 

Vol.  I,  I 


[     '14     ] 

XII. 

Thus  anfwer'd  fhort,  and  grave,  the  Mantuan  fwain, 
**  Juftice  and  mercy  both  alike  difdain. 

And  envy  galls  the  defpicable  crew  : 
Ev'n  in  a  deeper  lot,  and  gloomier  Hell, 
The  caitiff  train  would  be  content  to  dwell. 

So  might  their  mem*ries  laft  for  ever  new, 

xm. 

"  Grudging  the  fame  that  in  the  upper  world 

Attends  the  race  to  deep  damnation  hurFd,  'Vjk 

They  execrate  their  dark  oblivious  doom:  ^? 

We'll  fpeak  of  them  no  more !  for,  look,  below !— • 
See  where  the  fons  of  reprobation  go. 

Emerging  from  the  depths  of  yonder  gloom !" 

XIV. 

I  looked,  and  faw  a  waving  banner  fpread. 
And  following  fall  the  Legions  of  the  dead 

A  deep,  exhaufllefs  train  fucceeding  ftill : 
The  tenants  of  the  tomb,  fmce  death  began 
His  daily  inroad  on  the  race  of  man, 

Unequal  feem'd  the  lengthened  line  to  fill. 

XV. 

The  foremofl  racer  of  the  gloomy  hofl 
That  renegade  I  faw,  who  fled  his  poft, 

5/. XV.  /.  1.]  Piano  Muroni  da  SuLMONA,an  Hermit,  remark- 
able for  the  feverity  of  his  hfe  and  mamiers,  who  on  the  death  of 
Nicholas  the  fourth  was  made  Pope,  by  the  name  of  Celestine 
the  fifdi. — He,  though  well  qualified  to  reform  the  abufes  of  the 

Church, 


C     "5    ] 

And  flung  the  crofier  and  the  keys  away : 
Nearer  I  gaz'd,  and  knew  the  abjed  train. 
Who,  Heaven's  averfion,  and  their  foe*s  difdain. 

But  half  inform'd  their  tenements  of  clay. 

XVI. 

Naked  they  marchM,  and  ftill  a  warping  cloud 
Of  flies,  and  hornets,  feem'd  the  hoft  to  fliroud. 

In  fwarms  on  every  bleeding  vifage  hung  : 
A  vizor  foul !  while  tears  commix'd  with  blood. 
Still  bath*d  their  reillefs  feet,  a  welcome  food 

To  the  fallidious  worms  that  round  them  clung. 

XVII. 
Beyond  a  lazy  current  feem'd  to  creep. 
And  on  the  borders  of  the  gloomy  deep 

A  pale  devoted  train  was  feen  to  wait : 
"  Oh !  fav'rite  of  the  mufe !"  I  cry'd,  "  declare 
Why,  dim  difcover'd  through  the  lucid  air. 

Yon*  band  fo  eager  feems  to  try  their  fate.*' 

XVIII. 
Thus  I,  and  thus  the  Mantuan  bard  reply'd : 
*'  Not  till  we  reach  the  melancholy  tide. 

Does  Heav'n  permit  your  mortal  doubts  to  clear.** 
With  downcafl  looks  I  mark'd  his  fl:ern  regard. 
And  filent,  follow'd  the  immortal  bard. 

With  glowing  fliame  opprefs*d,  and  filial  fear. 

Chuft:h,  fuflFered  himfelf  to  be  prevailed  upon  by  the  Cardinal  db 
Anagnia,  (Benedict.  Caietan)  to  abdicate  the  papacy. 
Caietan  fucceeded  by  the  name  of  Boniface  the  eighth. 

I  2 


[    ii6    3 

XIX. 
Far  off  exclaim'd  the  grizzly  mariner, 
"  Hither,  ye  Denizens  of  Hell,  repair ! 

The  Stygian  barque  her  wonted  load  requires ; 
For  you  diurnal  ftars  benignant  beam. 
Prepare  ye  now  to  feel  the  fierce  extreme 

Of  froil  corrofive,  and  outrageous  fire. 

XX. 

"  But  thou  that  dar'ft  with  earthly  feet  to  tread, 
Tho*  uncondemn'd,  the  regions  of  the  dead, 

Avaunt !  nor  mingle  with  the  curfed  band ! 
A  lighter  barge  attends  thy  parted  ghoft. 
Waiting  to  waft  thee  to  a  dift'erent  coaft. 

Where  Saints  expeQ:  thee  on  the  happy  flrand.* 

XXI. 

Sternly  he  fpoke,  and  thus  the  Bard  reply'd : 
"  Ceafe,  fullen  Pilot  of  th'  Infernal  Tide ! 

CommiflionM  from  above  he  feeks  the  fhore, 
And  pleads  the  will  of  Heaven's  immortal  Sire !" 
Quick  from  his  eye-balls  fled  the  ranc'rous  fire. 

And  foon  he  fmooth'd  his  brow,  and  dipt  the  oar. 

xxn. 

But  when  the  abjeft  crew  that  lin*d  the  ftrand 
With  (hudd'ring  horror  heard  the  ftern  command. 

Loud  they  began  to  curfe  their  natal  ftar, 
Their  parent-clime,  their  lineage,  and  their  God  ; 
Then  to  the  ferry  took  the  downward  road 

With  lamentable  cries  of  loud  defpair. 


L    117   3 

XXIIT. 

Then  o'er  the  fatal  flood,  In  horror  hung 
Colleded,  flood  the  Heav*n-abandon'd  throng ; 

At  lafl  the  Pilot  gives  the  dreadful  word : 
And  as  in  crowds  on  crowds  the  finners  came, 
The  Fiend,  with  lifted  oar,  and  eyes  of  flame, 

Compeird  the  ling'ring  foul  to  hafl:e  on  board. 

XXIV. 

As  fome  tall  tree  on  autumn's  clofmg  day 
Perceives  her  mellowing  honours  fleet  away, 

'Till  earth  is  hid  beneath  the  frequent  fall : 
Thus  the  lofl:  fons  of  Adam's  lucklefs  race 
Throng  to  the  pinnace,  and  embark  apace, 

Swift  as  the  faulcon  hears  her  mafter's  call. 

XXV. 

Soon  as  the  Stygian  keel  forfakes  the  fhore. 
The  fatal  bank  is  fill'd  by  thoufands  more, 

"While  Maro  thus  the  mournful  caufe  explains 
'*  Heav'n's  aliens  here,  from  ev'ry  diftant  land, 

iln  countlefs  crowds  that  blacken  all  the  flirand. 
Implore  the  fatal  fl:roke,  and  court  their  pains. 
I  XXVI. 

*'  See  !  from  behind.  Eternal  Jufliice  urge  ! 
And  fee !  how  fall  to  fliun  the  flaming  fcourge, 
Eager  thro*  fear,  they  crofs  the  difmal  tide ! 
None  ever  lov'd  of  Heav'n,  the  voyage  dar'd. 
And  not  for  nought,  the  fell  and  fearlefs  guard. 
Thy  paflage  to  the  dreadful  fliore  deny'd  !** 

13 


I     ii8     ] 
XXVII. 

Thus  fpoke  the  Bard :  and,  lo  !  the  dufky  plain 
With  tremulous  throbs,  as  rack'd  with  inward  pain. 

In  ftrong  convulfions  to  the  centre  fhook : 
Red,  fullen  light'nings  danc'd  their  difmal  round, 
Portentous  gleaming  from  the  rocky  ground, 

And  down  I  funk,  with  llumb'rous  torpor  flruck. 


END   OF   THE   THIRD    CANTO. 


CANTO  THE  FOURTH. 


ARGUMENT. 

The  Poet  proceeds  to  the  Limbo  of  the  Ancients,  where  he 
finds  the  Souls  of  Patriarchs,  Sages,  Poets,  and  Heroes,  con- 
fined in  a  fort  of  Elysium  ;  among  whom  Virgil  names  the 
moil  remarkable ;  and  defcribes  a  wonderful  Revolution  that  had 
happened  in  the  Region  of  the  Infernal  World,  in  the  time  of 
Tiberius. 

The  Tranflator  has  taken  the  liberty  of  adding  fome  charadlcriilic 
Imagery  to  the  "  Mufter-roU  of  Names,"  which  coullitutes  a 
great  part  of  this  Canto  in  the  original. 


A  DEEP  tremendous  found  my  flumbers  broke, 
RousM  with  the  fubterranean  peal,  I  woke. 

As  fome  ftrong  arm  had  fhook  me  from  my  fleep : 
Trembling  I  rofe,  and  wildly  gaz'd  around. 
To  fee  what  region  of  the  dark  profound 

Held  me,  a  prifoner  of  the  penal  deep. 

11. 

Sufpended  high  upon  the  brink  of  Hell, 
Lifl'ning,  we  flood  to  hear  the  difmal  yell 

I  4  Succeflive 


[       I20       ] 

SuccefTive  pealing  round  the  world  of  woe ; 
Downward  I  gaz'd  intent ;  but  gaz'd  in  vain. 
Such  darknefs  over-hung  the  place  of  pain. 

Hiding  the  horrid  vifion  far  below, 

III. 

Ev'n  Maro  (hewM  the  figns  of  pale  difmay, 
And  cry'd,  "  down  hither  lies  our  fated  way !" 

While  I,  alarmM  with  his  contagious  hue. 
Faltering  reply *d,  "  if  dajflard  fear  controul 
On  Hell's  dread  verge,  the  difembodied  foul, 

Shall  mortal  man  the  dangerous  path  purfue  ?'* 

IV. 

*'  Not  fear,  but  pity,'*  the  mild  fpirit  faid, 

*'  For  thofe,  for  thofe  in  yon'  ambiguous  fhade, 

Exiles  of  Glpry !  touch'd  my  heart  with  pain  ! 
But  hafle,  a  tedious  way  before  us  lies." 
He  fpoke,  I  follow'd,  ftruck  with  pale  furprife. 

To  the  firft  region  of  the  dark  domain, 

V. 

Now  thro*  the  void  and  viewlefs  fliadows  drear. 
Short  fighs,  thick-coming,  led  the  lifl'ning  ear. 

Trembling  in  murmurs  low  along  the  gale : 
No  pang  is  here,  no  tort'ring  hour  is  known. 
Their  irrecoverable  lofs  alone 

Matrons,  and  fires,  and  tender  babes  bewail. 

VI. 

^'  And  can  the  moumful  train  that  here  abide 
Unnotic'd  pafs  thee  by  ?**  the  Poet  cry'd, 

^'Thefq 


n 


[  '21  1 

*'  Thefe  Were  the  race  renown'd  of  ancient  time : 
Unknown  a  Saviour,  unador'd  a  God, 
Their  blind  prefumptuous  courfe  in  reafon's  road 

They  Hill  purfu'd,  unconfcious  of  a  crime. 

VII. 

^'^  No  bleeding  ranfom  of  their  fms  they  knew. 
Nor  from  the  fount  regenerative  drew 

The  facred  fymbol  of  eternal  joy ! 
In  ceafelefs  languors  now  forlorn  they  dwell, 
>;Not  heirs  of  Heav'n,  nor  denizens  of  Hell;, 

And  of  their  fad  fociety  am  I  •" 

VIII. 
Sorrowing  I  flood  at  the  myflerious  doom 
Of  thofe  whofe  names  the  upper  world  illume. 

And,  boldly  bent  the  facred  depth  to  fcan, 
I  dar'd,  ev'n  from  the  dread  precinfts  of  death 
To  fnatch  a  proof  of  our  illuftrious  faith. 

And  thus  addrefs'd  the  venerable  man  : 

IX. 

**  Say,  is  there  none  among  the  names  of  old, 
Jn  the  bright  Hfls  of  endlefs  life  enrolled  ? 

St.  vii.  /.I.]  The  opinion  of  the  age  doomed  the  Ancient  Pa- 
gans, however  innocent  in  their  lives,  to  the  Infernal  World,  at  leafl: 
to  Hades.  Had  Dante  prefumed  to  contradift  the  reigning  opi- 
nion, his  book,  and  he  both,  perhaps,  would  have  been  condemned 
to  the  flames  ;  but  he  fteers  clear  of  the  dangers,  and  yet  fecurei- 
bimfelf  from  the  charge  of  a  rigid  and  indifcriminating  fuperftition, 
J)y  inventing  a  kind  of  Elysium  for  the  virtuous  Ancients,  and  for 
^hofe  who  had  di^d  before  the  birth  of  our  Saviour, 

None 


C      122      ] 

None  dar'd  a  Saviour,  nor  himfelf  to  plead  ?" 
Maro  reply'd,  "  fcarce  on  the  flKidowy  coaft 
My  foul  arrivM,  when,  lo  !  a  num*rous  hofl: 

Seleded  hence,  a  chief  triumphant  led. 

X. 

*'  The  van  were  thofe  that  liv'd  before  the  flood : 
Confpicuous  there  the  Man  of  Eden  flood 

With  him  whofe  blood  the  recent  earth  defil*d. 
He,  whofe  rapt  eye  the  coming  dehige  faw. 
Followed  behind  ;  and  he  that  held  in  awe 

The  fons  of  Israel  in  th*  Arabian  wild. 

XI. 

"  Then  he  who,  with  his  fmali  dbmeftic  band. 
Followed  the  vifion  of  the  promised  land 

Thro*  many  a  fmiling  plain  to  Jordan's  fliore  j 
He  that  fo  dear  the  Syrian  damfel  bought 
His  fpoufe,  and  they  that  to  their  father  brought 

The  fraudful  mantle  ftain'd  with  favage  gore. 

XII. 

*'  All  thefe,  the  palm-crown'd  chief,  and  thoufands 
Glean'd  from  the  wild  depopulated  fhore,  |]more, 

St.  X.  1.2.']     Adam.  i"/.  xi. /.  I.]   Abraham. 

7.3.]     Abel.  7.4.]   Jacob. 

7.4.]     Noah.  7.  5.]   Rachel. 

7.  ^.3     Mofes. 

5jf.  xi.  7.  5.3     The  Sons  of  Ifrael.      See  their   Repentance  re- 
corded, Gen.  xliv. 

Where 


[     123    ] 

Where  Saviour's  foot  before  had  never  been/* 
Converfing  thus  we  met  the  countlefs  train 
Whofe  jhadowy  fquadrons  hid  the  groaning  plain. 

And  flood  aftonifh'd  at  the  Uving  fcene. 

XIII. 

Soon,  glimm'ring  on  the  verge  of  ancient  night. 
Afar  we  fpy*d  a  faint,  deceitful  light 

Veiling  the  nether  world  in  twilight  grey ; 
There  many  a  fpirit,  fam*d  in  ancient  time. 
From  many  an  old  and  celebrated  clime. 

The  dim  Battalia  form'd  in  deep  array. 

XIV. 

*'  Say,  Mantuan  !  why,  in  yon'  diftinguifli''d  race. 
Such  chara£lers  are  feen  of  heav'nly  grace. 

That  fcarce  they  feem  the  penal  fcourge  to  feel  ?" 
I  fpoke,  and  thus  the  mild  conducing  fhade, 
*'  Becaufe  their  names,  from  age  to  age  convey'd. 

Bear  the  bright  ftamp  of  Fame's  eternal  feal." 

XV. 

Then,  "  hail !  returning  Bard,"  was  heard  around 
From  many  a  deep,  harmonious  voice  to  found, 

"  Behold,  at  length,  the  matchlefs  Bard  return  ;'* 
Soon  thofe  from  whom  the  falutation  came 
FoUr  fhadowy  chiefs  appear'd,  of  mighty  name, 

Too  grave  they  feem'd  for  joy,  too  wife  to  mourn. 

XVI. 

*'  Yon*  martial  form  behold !"  the  Mantuan  faid, 
*'  See  in  his  hand  the  vifionary  blade  ! 

4  Seems 


[       124      ] 

Sedms  he  not  born  the  weight  of  hofls  to  wield  ? 
'Tis  mighty  Homer,  firll  of  bards !  who  fung 
How  on  the  flying  rear  Achilles  hung, 

And  all  the  terrors  of  Scamander's  field  ! 

XVLl 
"  Near  him,  the  mafler  of  the  Latian  Lyre, 
Who  civiliz'd  the  rude  satyric  Choir, 

And  bade  them  mingle  with  the  polifh'd  throng ; 
And  mighty  Lucan,  fl:ain*d  with  civil  blood. 
With  him  who  to  the  fwans  on  Ister*s  flood 

In  exile  fung  his  fweetly  plaintive  fong ! 

XVIII. 

"  Thus,  joint  partakers  of  the  mufe*s  flame. 
And  held  in  concord  by  her  hallowed  name. 

None  here  negleds  the  mutual  honours  due.'* 
More  had  the  Poet  faid,  but  now  at  hand 
Slowly  approach  the  fmall  fclecled  band. 

And  hail  the  heav'n-afpiring  Bard  anew* 

XIX. 

Some  time,  apart,  in  fecret  deep  debate, 
Retir*d  the  mafters  of  the  mufe's  flate : 

Then,  turning  all  to  me,  with  kind  regard ; 
In  that  bright  band  my  humble  name  enrollM, 
Such  haughty  honour  far  unfit  to  hold 

Thus  with  immortals  mixt,  a  mortal  bard ! 

.S/.  Xvii. /.   I.]      HORACK. 

/.5.]    Ovid. 


4 


E    125    ] 

XX. 

Thro'  the  dim  ihadows  of  retiring  night 

We  pafs'd,  and  reach'd  the  bounds  of  cheerful  light ; 

Talking  of  things  for  mortal  ear  unmeet : 
But  now  in  front  a  tow'ry  caftle  frown'd. 
Deep,  deep  immur'd  within  a  feven-fold  mound. 

And  feven  fwift  torrents  lav'd  her  hallow'd  feet. 

XXI. 
The  wondrous  flood  our  trembling  fteps  upbore  ; 
And  now,  arriv'd  upon  the  further  fliore. 

Seven  portals  huge,  we  pafs  with  founding  tread  ; 
Then,  meads  where  fpring  eternal  feem'd  to  reign. 
Where  walk'd  in  crowds  a  fair  and  noble  train, 

Of  port  fuperior  to  the  vulgar  dead.    . 
XXII. 
The  grave-ey'd  chiefs  within  the  verge  of  light 
Confpicuous  mov'd  before  my  raptur'd  fight, 

Converfmg  deep,  in  accents  foft  and  flow ; 
JEneas  there,  and  Hector's  helmed  fhade, 
Electra,  with  the  fair  Lavinian  maid, 

With  thoufands  following,  rang'd  the  fields  below. 
XXIII. 
I  faw  the  Amazons,  a  matchlefs  pair, 
Penthesilea  here,  Camilla  there  ; 

One  ftooifor  Troy,  and  one  the  race  defy'd : 
I  mark'd  the  mild  and  venerable  face 
Of  the  firfl  founder  of  the  Latin  race. 

And,  blufning  near,  the  Trojan's  lovely  bride. 

Sf.  xxiii. /.  6.]     Crenfa.    Lavinia  is' twice  mentioned  by  an  over- 
fight  of  the  Poet. 


r  125  ] 

XXIV. 

LiTCRETiA  too,  who  fell  her  fame  to  fave. 
And  Julia,  doom'd  to  fill  an  early  grave. 

With  fair  Cornelia,  join'd  their  flaughter*d  Lord 
There  Marcia  gloried  in  hfer  ftoic  mate. 
Who  fcoming  to  furvive  his  parent  flate, 

Met  with  undaunted  bread  the  fatal  fword. 
XXV. 
Old  Junius  there,  who  fhed  the  Tyrant*s  blood. 
Still  feem'd  to  keep  his  ftern,  unaltered  mood ; 

And  CvffiSAR  look'd  aloft  with  falcon  eye. 
There  in  barbaric  folitude  alone 
Stood  He  who  fhook  the  Solymean  throne. 

And  held  its  Lord  in  long  captivity. 

XXVL 

Afar  the  mafter  of  the  ftudious  fc£t, 

WTio  taught  fair  truth  from  falfliood  to  feled. 

His  pupils  led ;  and  near,  his  reverend  Sire, 
Bled  Socrates,  who  drain'd  the  deadly  bowl. 
Stood  rapt  the  mighty  academic  foul. 

While  the  proud  cynic  burnt  with  fecret  ire. 

St.xxlv.L  2,  3.3  Julia  and  Cornelia,  the  two  Wives  of  Pompey. 

/.  4.]     Cato. 
St.  XXV.  /.  1 .3     The  elder  Brutus.  ^b 

/.  3.3     The  name  of  Csfar  13  tranfpofed  from  its  place    ^| 
in  the  original,  where  it  occurs  araongft  the 
heroes  and  heroines  of  m)i:hological  times.  ^m 

i.  5.3     Saladin.  ^ 

7.6.3  GuydeLufignan,thelaft,Chrift.ian  Kingof  Jcrufalem. 
&.  xxvi.  /.  1.3     Ariftotle. 
/.  5.3     Plato. 
/.  6.3     Diogenes. 


[       127       ] 

XXVIL 
Here,  ferious  now,  appeared  the  laughing  fage. 
And  he,  who  ceafelefs  moum*d  an  impious  age. 

Now  both  the  fame  eternal  tenor  keep : 
The  Lyrift  too,  renown'd  in  days  of  yore. 
Tries  the  fweet  charm  of  melody  nd  more 

To  bid  the  lifl'ning  fons  of  Hades  weep. 

XXVIII. 

TuLLY  his  Roman  audience  flill  harangues, 
Still  on  his  lips  the  lill'ning  Senate  hangs, 

While  newly  fcapM  the  tyrant's  bloody  fteel. 
The  Moralift,  a  pale,  exhaufted  fhade 
Shews  his  torn  veins,  and  points  the  reeking  blade, 

Like  one  that  feems  the  ling'ring  wound  to  feel. 

XXIX. 

Thales  I  faw  the  fons  of  fcience  guide, 
Empedocles  and  Zeno  fide  by  fide. 

And  Euclid  there,  and  Ptolemy  I  knewj 
Galen,  Hippocrates,  and  Avicen, 
And  fage  Averrhoes,  whofe  Ikilful  pen 

At  larger  length  his  mighty  mailer  drew. 

5/.  xxvii. /.  I.]  Democritus. 

/.  2.]  Heraclitus. 

/.  4.]  Orpheus. 

5/.  xxviii. /.  4.]  Seneca. 

St.  xxix.  /.  6.']     AriftoUe,  on  whofe  writings  Averrhoes  com- 
mented. 


C     1^8     ] 

XXX. 

Onward  we  pafs'd,  and  faw  a  countlefs  train 
Scorning  the  limits  of  a  mortal  ftrain. 

And,  loth  to  leave  the  bounds  of  cheerful  light 
Sorrowing,  at  laft  we  took  a  long  farewell, 
And  haften'd  downward  where  th*  apoftates  dwell 

Deep  in  the  bofom  of  primaeval  night. 


END  OF  THE  FOURTH  CANTO. 


CANTO   THE   FIFTH. 


ARGUMENT. 

The  Travellers  defcend  to  the  fecond  Region,  where  they  find  the 
Tribunal  of  Minos,  and  obferve  his  extraordinary  method  of  pro- 
nouncing Sentence ;  thence  they  find  their  way  to  the  place 
wtiere  the  Votaries  of  lawlefs  Love  are  punilhed,  arhong  whoih 
Dante  meets  the  Spirits  of  Paulo  and  Francesca,  a  noble 
pair  of  Ravenna,  whofe  affefting  Story  clofes  the  Canto. 


Of  lefs  extent  a  region  now  appeared. 

But  Ihriller  fhrieks  of  anguifti  thence  were  heard, 

For  Minos  there  the  foul  impleaded  hears : 
Their  ftern  Examinant  their  hidden  crimes 
Explores,  and  inftant  to  the  feveral  climes 

His  ftruggling  charge  the  grim  attendant  bears. 
11. 
The  trembling  fhade  attends  the  awful  call. 
And  to  his  frowning  judge  confelTes  all, 

And  ftill  a  fignal  dire  the  fentence  Ihews  : 
A  burnifh'd  Dragon  wraps  the  Judge  around. 
And  each  blue  fpire  about  his  bofom  wound, 

Marks  a  gradation  of  infernal  woes* 
III. 
Inceflant  crowds  the  awful  prefence  throng. 
And  ftill  the  grizzly  minifter  along 

Vol.  I.  K  Bears 


C    130   3 

Bears  the  fad  prifoner  to  the  nether  goal : 
Soon  Minos  view'd  us  thro*  the  fhades  of  night. 
And,  paufing  at  the  unaccuftom'd  light, 

Left  in  fufpenfe  the  pale,  indi(^ed  foul. 

IV. 
*'  Let  no  vain  promifes  thy  faith  betray. 
Nor  let  the  fmooth  defcent,  and  eafy  way, 

Allure  thy  feet,  (exclaim'd  the  Judge  afar,) 
Down  to  the  womb  of  unrefunding  night, 
For  thence  in  vain  thou  feek'fl  the  realms  of  nighty 

Where  Hell's  dark  miniflers  the  paflage  bar." 

V. 

"  CommiflionM  by  his  word,  whofe  will  is  fate. 
Thro'  all  the  horrors  of  the  Stygian  flate 

Secure  we  jflray,*'  the  Mantuan  bard  replies. 
Nor  added  more,  for  plaintive  flrains  of  woe 
Commixt  with  ftruggling  ftorms,  were  heard  below. 

Loud  as  when  Neptune  fcales  the  bending  fkies. 

VI. 

The  tempeft  raves  around,  and  borne  on  high. 
On  its  black  wing  the  wailing  fhadows  fly, 

Dafh'd  wide,  and  devious  thro'  the  darkfomc  air, 
'Till  o'er  the  central  gulph  of  Hades  hung 
In  loud  diflrefsftil  cries,  the  falling  throng, 

Blafpheme  their  fov'reign,  and  atteil  their  fear. 

ATI. 
Thefe  were  the  haplefs  Haves  of  lawlefs  love. 
Soft  pleafure's  vot'ries  in  the  world  above, 

St.  vi.  /.  4.]      The  Tranflator  here  follows  the  interpretation  of 
ih^  Cs.uscA  Edition  as  the  moft  poeticaL 


*^l 


I 


C     '3'     ] 

Who  the  ftill  voice  of  reafon  held  in  fcom  j 
And  as  a  flight  of  ftarlings  wing  their  way. 
Riding  the  wintry  blaft  in  long  array, 

The  phantoms  fleet,  in  airy  tumult  borne. 

VIII. 
Aloft  we  faw  the  moody  revel  ride, 
Then,  in  long  eddies,  like  the  fwallowing  tide. 

With  its  fiill  freight  the  hurricane  defcends : 
Around  the  finners  fweep,  above,  below, 
Nor  refpite  of  their  cares  refl  they,  nor  refuge  know 

From  the  refifllefs  ftorm  that  never  ends. 

IX. 

As  cranes,  fagacious  of  the  feafon,  plan 
In  fliadowy  files  their  plumy  caravan ; 

Then  mount,  all  clam'rous,  and  obfcure  the  day : 
Thus  in  black  bands  the  diflipated  fwarm, 
Warping  innum'rous  on  the  coming  ftorm. 

Tune  to  the  piping  winds  their  doleful  lay. 

X. 

*'  Ah  !  who  are  thofe  that  ride  the  troubled  fphere, 
Driven  by  the  viewlefs  fiends  in  mad  career ; 
Behold  !'*  he  cryM,  "  their  names  indulgent  tell !" 
**  Mark  her,"  he  cry*d,  "  the  foremoft  of  the  throng 
1^    The  queen  of  many  a  realm,  and  barbarous  tongue. 
By  HER  betray'd  the  mighty  Ninus  fell. 

I  XI. 

"  Her  impious  court  the  foft  example  fliew'd. 
Thence,  far  and  wide,  the  deep  infedion  flow'd. 


r  132  J 

Pleafurc*8  foft  whifper  was  the  voice  of  law : 
At  once  to  check  the  lib'ral  tongue  of  blame, 
Induftrious  fhe  difFus'd  the  gen'ral  fhame. 

Till  truth  and  juftice  loft  their  wonted  awe* 
XU. 
"  See  where  fhe  fhoots  along  in  ruin  roird. 
The  mighty  queen,  renown'd  in  legends  old. 

For  the  great  fceptre  by  her  lord  befl;o^y*d  I 
Assyrians  ancient  ftate,  and  Babel's  plain. 
With  all  that  mighty  realm  composM  her  reign, 

"Where  now  the  Soldan  fways  the  regal  rod ! 

xm. 

Then  fcreaming,  flitted  by  Eliza's  ghoft. 
Who  on  herfelf  reveng'd  her  lover  loft  : 

Then  Egypt's  wanton  Queen  was  feen  to  foar. 
Next  I  beheld  the  Spartan  Dame  appear. 
The  common  peft  of  many  a  rolling  year. 

While  mutual  flaughter  dy'd  Scamander's  fhore. 

St.  xii.  /.  1.3  The  ftory  of  Semiramis,  here  alluded  to,  is  that 
told  by  Justin  and  Ctesias,  viz.  That  having  prevailed  on  her 
hutb^nd  NiNus,  to  give  the  reips  of  government  to  her  for  one 
day,  fhe  took  ^n  opportunity  of  ending  his  reign  and  life  together, 

St.  xiii.  /.  I.]  Dido,  the  celebrated  Queen  of  Cubage. — See 
her  more  authentic  ftory  in  Mr.  Hayley's  curious  extradl?  from  the 
AiAUCANA,  in  the  Notes  to  his  Eflay  on  Epic  Poetry. 

•y^-iiii.  /.  3.]  The  miilrefs  of  Julius  Cesar  and  Anthony^ 
and  one  who  might  have  b.een  miftrefe  of  the  world,  hrsd  it  not  been 
for  the  averfion  the  Romans  entertained  to  the  royal  name. — See  the 
affecting  fituation  of  Titus  in  Racine's  Berenice,  when  he  is 
oWiged  to  difiiiifs.  the  Queen,  on  th^e  eve  of  th,cir  nuptials,  ia  order 
to  appeafe  the  Senate. 

St.  xiii.  /.  4.]     Helen  of  Troy. 


^ 


r  '33  ] 

XIV. 
Achilles  too,  by  love  to  ruin  led, 
Paris  I  fpy'd,  and  Triftram's  gory  fhade. 

And  ftill  each  coming  ghoft  the  poet  nam*d. 
To  fee  this  wreck  of  fouls  my  heart  recoil'd. 
At  length,  "  O  call  that  pair,  thou  fpirit  mild, 

That  ikims  fo  light  before  the  blaft  untam'd ! 

XV. 

*'  Soon  may'ft  thou  know,"  he  cry*d,  "  the  tide  of  air 
Brings  to  our  lofty  (land  the  haplefs  pair ; 

Do  thou  adjure  them  by  their  mutual  flame 
To  tell  their  woes,  their  woes  they  foon  will  tell." 
He  fpoke.     Afcending  from  the  depths  of  Hell, 

Riding  the  blaft,  the  wailing  lovers  came. 

XVI. 

Then  I.  "  Afflided  pair !  defcend  and  fay. 
Why  thus  ye  mourn  ?"  The  gentle  ghofts  obey. 

And  light,  attentive  to  my  warm  requeft  : 
As,  with  her  faithful  mate,  the  turtle-dove 
Defcends,  obedient  to  the  call  of  love, 

On  fteady  wing,  and  feeks  the  nuptial  neft. 

Si.  xiv.  /.  1 .]  This  alludes  to  the  Story  of  his  falling  in  love  with 
PoLVXENA,  the  daughter  of  Priam,  and  being  treacheroufly  killed 
by  Paris,  as  he  was  celebrating  the  nuptials  in  the  Temple  of 
Apollo. 

(S/.  xiv. /.  2.]  Or  Trestram  de  Leon,  one  of  the  Knights  of 
Arthur's  Round  Table,  and  nephew  to  Mark  e,  King  of  Cornwall. 
He  was  killed  in  confequence  of  a  criminal  intercourfe  with  his 
uncle's  wife,  La  Belle  Ifonde.— See  the  death  of  Arthur,  Part  II. 

K3 


C   134   ] 

XVII. 

Dido  they  left,  that  led  the  num'rous  flight, 
And  thro'  the  fhadows  of  eternal  night 

Struck  by  the  potent  charm  the  lovers  came  : 
♦'  Mortal,"  they  cry'd, "  whofe  friendly  thoughts  impel 
Thy  feet  to  wander  thro'  the  (hades  of  Hell 

To  learn  our  woes,  the  fates  allow  your  claim ! 


XVIII. 

**  Ah !  could  the  fruitlefs  prayers  that  hence  arife. 
Bend  the  flem  Ruler  of  the  diflant  Ikies, 

Thine  were  the  joys  of  everlafling  reft ! 
So  fweet  the  paufe  thy  adjurations  gain 
For  us,  ill-fated  pair,  untimely  flain 

Where  Padus  rolls  the  tribute  of  the  weft ! 


I 


St.  xviii.  /.  5.]  The  ftory  of  thefe  Lovcrt  is  thus  told  by  BoccA- 
CIO  in  his  Commentary  on  the  5th  Canto  : 

"  Francesca  was  daughter  to  Guido  de  Polenta,  Lord  of 
Ravenna.  Between  Polenta  and  the  family  of  the  Mal  ate  st  as. 
Lords  of  Rimini,  there  had  been  a  long  and  deadly  feud;  at 
length  peace  was  made,  by  the  mediation  of  fome  of  the  petty 
princes  in  the  neighbourhood.  That  this  alliance  might  be  more 
firmly  eftablifhed,  both  parties  were  prevailed  upon  to  make  it  more 
fecure  by  the  bonds  of  affinity.  It  was  agreed,  that  the  beautiful 
daughter  of  GuiDO  fliould  be  given  in  marriage  to  the  fon  of 
Malatesta,  named  Lanciotto.  This  being  previoufly  men- 
tioned among  fome  of  the  friends  of  GuiDo,  one  of  them  made  the 
following  obfervation  to  the  father :  *  Refleft  maturely  on  the 
mcafure  you  are  about  to  purfue.  If  you  do  not  proceed  with  due 
precaution  in  this  affair,  it  may  be  the  occafion  of  new  offence,  and 
make  the  breach  wider  than  it  was  before.  You  know  that  your 
daughter  is  of  an  high  fpirit ;  if  fhe  fees  Lanciotto  ie/ore  the  ce- 
lebration, not  all  the  world  would  perfuade  her  to  confcnt.     It  doei 

not 


f     ^35     ] 

XIX. 

**  This  mangled  form  was  fated  to  infpire 
The  gentle  Paulo's  breaft  with  am'rous  fire  ; 

From  his  to  mine  the  foft  infeftion  fpread  : 
Too  foon  the  fatal  fecret  I  divin'd ; 
Too  foon  with  his  my  guilty  wifli  combin'd. 

Wretch  that  I  was !  who  Ihar'd  his  brother's  bed ! 


not  therefore  appear  to  me  advifeable  that  Lanciotto  (hould  come 
hither  himfelf,  but  that  one  of  his  brothers  {hould  be  fent  for  in  his 
ftead,  pay  his  addreffes  by  proxy,  and  efpoufe  her  in  the  name  of 
the  abfent  hufband.'  Lanciotto,  itfeems,  though  a  young  man  of 
fpirit  and  enterprife,  was  deformed  in  his  perfon,  and  of  a  difagrec- 
able  afpeft ;  yet  ambition  induced  the  father  of  Franc  esc  a  to 
facrifice  her  to  him  in  preference  to  any  of  his  brothers,  as  he  was 
the  prefumptive  heir  of  the  Signiory.  Being  aware  of  the  difagree- 
able  confequences,  fuch  as'  his  friend  had  laid  before  him,  he  or- 
dered meafures  to  be  taken  according  to  his  advice  ;  confiding  in 
his  daughter's  fenfe  of  duty,  as  a  guard  to  her  fubfequent  conduft, 
when  it  fhould  be  too  late  to  retraft.  A  fliort  time  after  Paulo, 
the  brother  of  Lanciotto,  came  to  Ravenna  as  the  oftenfible 
lover  of  the  fair  Francesca.  Paulo  was  engaging  in  his  perfon, 
and  his  manners  are  defcribcd  as  peculiarly  attraftive.  As  he  croffed 
the  courts  of  the  palace  of  Ravenna,  with  a  train  of  gentlemen  iu 
his  retinue,  according  to  tlie  cuftom  of  the  times,  he  was  pointed 
out  to  Francesca,  by  one  of  her  female  attendants,  '  as  the  man 
deftined  to  make  her  happy  ;'  the  firft  glance  was  the  commence- 
ment of  a  fatal  paflion,  the  more  refiftlefs,  as  (he  was  totally  un- 
guarded againft  an  attachment  which  began  under  the  maflc  of 
innoct'nce.  Uader  the  influence  of  this  cruel  deceit,  the  contraft 
was  made,  and  fhe  was  condufted  to  Rimini  immediately  after  the 
celebration,  under  the  belief  that  {he  travelled  in  company  with  her 
fpoufe.  The  fallacy  was  not  discovered  till  the  light  of  the  morn- 
ing difcovered  Lanciotto  by  her  fide,  inftead  of  Paulo.  The 
confli<5l  in  her  mind  betwixt  indignation,  grief,  and  love,  however 

K  4  fevere. 


[     13^    ] 

XX. 

**  Love  link*d  our  fouls  above,  and  links  below. 
But,  far  beneath,  in  fcenes  of  deeper  woe 

The  eldcfl  murth'rer  and  his  mates  prepare 
Already  to  receive  the  ruffian's  foul : 
Where  Caina  reaches  to  the  nether  pole 

With  Fratricides  the  penal  doom  to  fhare." 


fevcre,  it  is  fuppofed  (he  found  means  to  conceal ;  for  it  does  not 
appear  that  her  hufband  entertained  any  fufpicions  of  her  averfion,  at 
lead,  if  he  did,  he  did  not  at  firft  feem  to  entertain  a  fufpicion  that  his 
brother  (whatever  attachment  he  might  have  felt  at  firft)  could  be 
made  the  inftrument  of  his  difhonour.  His  frequent  abfenccs  in 
diftant  parts  of  the  Signiory,  foon,  however,  afforded  them  fre- 
quent opportunities  of  indulging  their  guilty  commerce,  and  fo 
much  fecurity,  that  a  difcovery  was  eafily  made  by  a  faithful  do- 
meftic,  who  on  his  mafter's  return  difclofed  the  fccret,  and  on  his 
indignant  expreffions  of  difbelief,  he  offered  to  give  him  demonftrative 
proof  if  he  would  fubmit  to  his  guidance.  Lanciotto  at  laft 
complied ;  and  returning  from  his  next  expedition  in  fecret,  con- 
trived, by  means  of  his  faithful  domeftic,  to  conceal  himfelf  near  his 
wife's  bedchamber,  into  which,  fliortly  after,  he  faw  Paulo  enter 
through  a  fecret  trap-door*.  The  hufband  immediately  left  his  am- 
bufcade,  and  made  what  hafte  to  the  door  he  could  in  order  to  break 
it  open,  but  either  the  noife  alarmed  the  guilty  pair,  or  they  had 
perceived  him  through  a  chink  of  the  door  or  partition.  However 
it  was,  Paulo  had  time  to  defcend  by  the  trap-door,  or  pafs  by 
the  Aiding  pannel,  and  thought  he  could  by  that  means  pre- 
vent the  fatal  confequences  ;  but  an  untoward  circumftance  led  (it 
is  faid)  to  a  difcovery :  the  fkirt  of  his  night-gown  was  either 
caught  in  the  clofing  door,  or  fattened  on  a  nail,  which  detained 
him  till  Francesca  (unconfcious  of  this  accident)  had  admitted 

*  Or  fliding  panael  in  the  wainfcoty  for  the  word  iSgnifiet  either. 

her 


1 


r  137  J 

XXI. 
She  paus'd,  and  her  eternal  plaints  renewed  ; 
Struck  with  her  haplefs  tale  I  mufmg  flood  : 

"  Why  penfive  thus  ?**  the  gentle  bard  enquired ; 
Then  I :  "  Could  aught  the  captive  fouls  perfuade 
To  tell  the  trains  for  their  feduftion  laid, 

Millions  might  fhun  their  fate^  by  Heav*n  infpir'd.' 

XXII. 
Then  turning  round  to  view  the  haplefs  pair. 
Sighing,   I  thus  addrefs*d  the  weeping  fair : — 

"  How  fad  th*  atonement  of  thy  guilty  joys ! 
But  fay,  how  firft  you  faw  his  pafTion  grow ; 
What  bufy  demon  taught  thee  firft  to  know 

The  fecret  meaning  of  his  fmother*d  fighs  ?" 

XXIII. 

She  wept,  and  "  Oh !  how  grievous  to  relate 
Paft  joys,  and  tread  again  the  paths  of  fate. 

Let  him  who  fung  Eliza's  woes  declare : 
But  fmce,  unfated  ft  ill,  the  wifh  remains 
To  know  the  fource  of  our  eternal  pains. 

Thou  fhalt  not  vainly  breathe  the  pious  pray'r. 


her  hufband  ;  the  deteftion  was  inftantly  made  by  means  of  this 
entanglement,  and  the  guilty  brother  dragged  back  into  the  room  ; 
where,  as  Lanciotto  ftnick  at  him  with  his  dagger,  Francesca,. 
endeavouring  to  fave  Paulo,  threw  herfelf  in  the  way  and  received 
the  fatal  ftroke,  undefigned,  it  is  faid,  by  her  hufband;  who,  in* 
cenfed  almoft  to  frenzy  by  this  new  difailer,  facrificed  Paulo  to  his 
refentments  by  repeated  wounds. 


C     '38     ] 

XXIV. 
*'  One  day  (a  day  I  ever  muft  deplore  ^) 
The  gentle  youth,  to  fpend  a  vacant  hour, 

To  me  the  foft  feducing  flory  read. 
Of  Launcelot  and  fair  Geneura*s  love, 
While  fafcinating  all  the  quiet  grove 

Fallacious  Peace  her  fnares  around  us  fpread. 

XXV. 
*'  Too  much  I  found  th'  infidious  volume  charm. 
And  Paulo's  mantling  blufhes  rifing  warmj 

Still  as  he  read  the  guilty  fecret  told : 
Soon  from  the  line  his  eyes  began  to  ftray ; 
Soon  did  my  yielding  looks  my  heart  betray. 

Nor  needed  words  our  wifaes  to  unfold. 

XXVI. 

•^  Eager  to  realize  the  ftory*d  blifs. 
Trembling  he  fnatch'd  the  half-refented  kifs. 

To  ill  foon  lefTon'd  by  the  pandar-page! 
Vile  pandar-page !  it  fmooth'd  the  paths  of  fhame." 
"While  thus  fhe  fpoke,  the  partner  of  her  flame 

Tun*d  his  deep  forrows  to  the  whirlwind's  rage. 

xxvn. 

So  full  the  fymphony  of  grief  arofe. 
My  heart,  refponfive  to  the  lovers  woes 

With  thrilling  fympathy  convuls'd  my  breafl : 
Too  ftrong  at  laft  for  life  my  paflion  grew. 
And,  fick'ning  at  the  lamentable  view, 

I  fell,  like  one  by  mortal  pangs  opprefs'd. 

END    OF    THE    FIFTH    CANTO. 


CANTO  THE  SIXTH. 


ARGUMENT. 
Leaving  the  Lover's  Lot,  and  journeying  dill  downwards,  the 
Poets  find  the  Gulph  of  Epicurism,  where  Dante  is  known  by 
the  Soul  of  a  noble  Florentine,  named  CiACCo,  who  difclofes 
to  him  fome  revolutions  foon  to  take  place  in  their  native  Repub- 
lic. On  pafling  this  Region,  Dante  makes  fome  Enquiries  re- 
lative to  the  State  of  Things  after  the  RefurreAion,  which  arc 
anfwered  by  the  Mantuan  Poet,  and  the  confequences  of  the 
final  Judgment  explained  from  Analogy. 


l—ONG  in  the  arms  of  Death  entranc'd  I  lay.—* 
At  length  the  vital  current  found  its  way  ; 

When  other  regions,  fraught  with  other  woes. 
Far  feen  beneath,  amaz'd  my  ftartled  fight : 
Obfcure,  the  Champaign  frown'd  in  native  night, 

And  deeper^  plagues  their  deadly  flores  difclofe. 

IL 

The  profpeQ:  low*rs  beneath  eternal  ftorms. 
Dire,  vollied  hail,  the  hoary  fcene  deforms. 

And  drifted  fnows  their  endlefs  rigour  keep : 
Dark  ruin  hurtles  thro*  the  duiky  air. 
Foul  fleams  arife  and  fill  the  troubled  fphere, 

IncelTant  floating  round  the  awful  fteep. 


[     140     ] 

III. 
Heirs  bloodhound  there  his  triple  form  extends. 
And  ever  and  anon  the  favage  rends 

Some  wand'ring  wretch,  and  dyes  his  fangs  in  gore  j 
His  flaming  eyes  the  troubled  deep  furvey. 
Loud  gnafh  his  teeth  and  hold  the  damn'd  at  bay, 

Whofe  captive  bands  in  vain  his  rage  deplore. 


IV. 

The  founder*d  crew  bewail  the  bitter  fliow'r. 
Loud  barks  the  fiend ;  his  flaming  eye-balls  lour. 

Still  as  the  wretches  fliift  the  tortur'd  fide. 
Rolling  innum'rous  thro'  the  dark  profound. 
Their  yells  canine  th*  afl:onifli'd  hearing  wound ; 

At  length  our  fl;eps  the  dog  of  darknefs  fpy'd. 

V. 

His  triple  head  aloft  the  favage  rear*d  : 
His  fangs,  a  triple  row  of  fate,  appeared. 

And  all  the  man  forfook  my  fmking  frame. 
Soon  Maro,  ftiooping,  flung  a  moulded  clod. 
He  fwallow'd  it,  and  found  his  rage  o'eraw'd. 

Then  gradual  funk,  exhaufl:ed,  weak,  and  tame. 

VI. 

As  when  a  mongrel  quits  his  nightly  guard. 
When  the  dark  felon  deals  the  wifli'd  reward. 

And  charms  the  ceafelefs  terrors  of  his  tongue  ; 
So  found  the  fiend  his  wonted  wrath  afluage  : 
His  eyes  had  lofl:  their  flame,  his  fangs  their  rage. 

And  filence  o*er  the  deep  a  moment  hung. 


n 


[  HI  ] 

VII. 

The  captive  crew  the  wondrous  paufe  admire. 
Now  firfl  untortur'd  by  his  clamours  dire  : 

At  length  arriving  on  the  bounds  of  pain. 
Thro*  their  wide  flound'ring  forms  amaz'd  we  pafs'd. 
Extended,  bare,  beneath  the  bitter  blaft. 

Whole  dread  artill'ry  beat  the  groaning  pldn. 

vin. 

Mocking  the  touch,  the  heav'n-abandon*d  hoft, 
A  foul  encampment  1  fiU'd  the  fpacious  coafl. 

A  voice  at  length  the  horrid  filence  broke  ; 
Where  a  pale  pris'ner  feem*d  his  head  to  raife. 
And  view  my  earthly  form  with  fix'd  amaze  ; 

While  thus  with  feeble  voice  the  phantom  fpoke : 

IX. 

"  Say  !  hardy  wand'rer  thro*  the  realms  of  pain, 
Does  any  trace  or  lineament  remain, 

To  wake  the  mem*ry  of  a  friend  once  dear  ? 
A  while  our  vital  threads  together  ran." 
"  In  vain,"  I  cry'd,  "  I  trace  thy  vifage  wan. 

Where  nought  but  characters  of  hell  appear. 

X. 

"  Tell  who  thou  art,  and  what  th*  ignoble  crime 
Th^t  chains  thy  limbs  in  this  contagious  clime. 

Among  the  fouleft  ftigmatics  of  Hell  ?" 
I  fpoke,  and  thus  th*  afflifted  foul  rejoin'd  :       [wind, 
**  Florence,   whofe  broad-blown  crimes  infed  the 

3aw  me  within  her  vile  enclofure  dwell. 


r  142  ] 

XI. 

"  While  yet  I  breath'd  the  fweet  Hcfperian  air. 
Ere  dooni'd  the  bitter-beating  florm  to  bear. 

At  feafls  well  known,  Ciacco  was  my  name ; 
Nor  mine  a  voice  that  folitary  wails, 
Here  thoufands  fill  the  deep  Cimmerian  vales, 

For  foul  intemperance  doom'd  to  equal  fhame." 

xn. 

Sighing,  I  anfwer'd,  "  Could  my  tears  affuage 
This  deadly  temped  of  eternal  rage, 

Ceafelefs,  for  thee,  my  tears  Ihould  kam  to  flow  : 
But  fay  what  ills  yon  faftious  walls  await  ? — 
Since  Difcord  breathes  her  poifon  through  the  ftate. 

Lives  there  a  man  whofe  worth  can  ward  the  blow?" 

xni. 

Then  he,  "  The  wordy  war  fliall  end  in  blood  ; 
Whence  the  ftrong  hunter  of  the  Aconian  wood 

St.  xi.  /.  3.3  Ciacco,  or  Guiotto,  a  noble  Florentine,  noted  for 
intemperance;  thence  he  got  the  nickname  of  Ciacco,  i.  e.  The 

Hog. For   fome  entertaining  particulars   of  him,  fee  the  ftory 

of  Pbilippo  Argentcy  in  the  notes  on  the  Eighth  Canto. 

St.  xiii.  /.  2.]  Cherchi  of  Florence,  the  head  of  the  White  Fac- 
tion, of  a  family  not  fo  remarkable  for  their  antiquity  as  their  opu- 
lence. His  antagonift,  Donae,  who  headed  the  Black  FaAion, 
was  of  an  illuftrious  family,  but  indigent.  For  the  rife  and  hiftory. 
of  thefe  faftions,  fee  the  Florentine  Hiftory  annexed,  and  the  Life 
of  Dantk,  who,  for  his  partiality  to  the  White  Faftion  during  his 
government,  wasbanifhed. 

It  18  to  be  obferved,  that  the  Poet  dates  this  vifion  in  his  thirty-^ 
fifth  year,  before  his  banifhmcnt ;  hence  Ciacco  fpeaks  to  him  in  a 
prophetical  fh-aia. 

«  Cries, 


il 


[     '43     ] 

**  Cries,  Havock  !  and  lets,  flip  his  dogs  of  war." 
Three  funs  Ihall  fee  him  rule  the  fubjed  plain, 
*Till  Valois,  hov'ring  on  the  Tuscan  main, 

.  Shall  turn  the  fcale,  and  chafe  the  tyrant  far. 

XIV. 
*'  Long  fhall  the  Vidor  Ihow  his  haughty  brow. 
The  foe  beneath  his  iron  hand  fhall  bow  j 

In  vain  I  fee  and  mourn  their  rigid  doom ! 
Two  patriots  flill  remain  ;  but  favage  Force, 
And  Pride,  and  Av'rice,  check  their  noble  courfe. 

And  with  confederate  flames  the  Hate  confume." 

XV. 
He  <:easM,  and  I  refumM  my  ardent  pray*r  : 
■     *'  Yet  to  thy  friend  a  fleeting  moment  fpare. 

Farina's  lot,  and  Tegghio's  doom  to  tell ; 
Arrigo,  Mosca,  with  Jacopo's  fate  ; 
If  here,  below,  the  torturing  hour  they  wait. 
Or  near  the  fprings  of  endlefs  pleafure  dwell  ? 

XVI. 
"  Where  fliall  I  find  thofe  fouls  fo  high  renown'd  ?** 
"  Far  hence,"  he  cry*d,  "  in  darkefl:  durance  bound, 

St.  XV.  /,  4.]  The  ftories  of  thefe  charaders  fhall  all  be  told 
under  their  refpeftive  allotments. 

The  punilhraent  of  intemperance  may  feem  rather  too  fevere,  as 
its  confequences  rather  affe6l  the  criminal  himfelf  than  fociety. — 
Luxury  indeed  gives  life  to  commerce,  and  birth  to  a  variety  of 
trades,  but  it  is  often  fupported  by  oppreffion,  and  often  by  fraud, 
evils  the  moft  detrimental  to  fociety ;  and  the  ruin  which  luxury 
brings  on  one  man  of  opulence,  particularly  in  a  commercial  coun- 
try, muft  afFeft  thoufands. 

For 


C     H4     3 

For  various  fins,  in  various  climes  confin'd. 
That  path  leads  downward  to  their  dark  abode. 
Where  human  foot  before  hath  never  trod, 

Still  many  a  darklbme  league  thy  feet  mufl  wind. 

XVII. 
"  And  Oh  !  if  e*er  thou  \'iew'fl:  the  golden  fky. 
Let  not  my  name  in  dark  oblivion  lie ; 

No  more  I  afk,  and  thou  enquire  no  more."'-*— 
He  tum*d,  yet  eyed  me  dill  with  look  afkance  ; 
Then  with  his  brethren  funk  in  torpid  trance, 

And  filence  reign'd  along  the  difmal  fhore. 

XVIII. 
"  Thofe,"  cry'd  the  Bard, "  fhall  flumber  out  their  fate, 
'Till,  from  the  confines  of  the  heav'nly  ftate. 

The  Hierarch*s  trump  fhall  thunder  thro'  the  defep  : 
Then,  cloath'd  again  in  vefls  of  humble  clayj 
The  hideous  band  fhall  rife  upon  the  day. 

And  down  return,  their  endlefs  doom  to  weep.*' 

XIX. 
Then  through  the  dark  morafs  we  pickM  our  way^ 
Where,  vex*d  with  florms,  the  feftal  fquadrons  lay. 

Reasoning  in  fage  debate  on  future  things. 
Then  I,  "  Shall  equal  plagues  the  damn'd  await ; 
Shall  Hell  encreafe  her  torments,  or  abate. 

When  the  lafl  change  their  final  fentence  brings  ?" 


J 


XX. 

"  Let  Science  folve  the  doubt,"  the  Bard  rejoin'd, 
*'  The  body  married  to  th'  immortal  mind. 


C     145     ] 

Or  higher  tranfport  feels,  or  fiercer  woe  : 
Then  th*  ignoble  brethren  of  the  fly. 
When  the  lafl  clarion  fhakes  the  vaulted  fky, 

Shall  feel  their  pains  fublim*d,  their  tortures  grow," 

XXI. 

Far  thence,  the  fearful  verge  we  walk*d  around, 
Converfing  fad,  or  wrapt  in  thought  profound. 

On  myflic  things  unmeet  for  mortal  flrain : 
At  length,  arriving  where  the  fhelving  fleep 
By  eafy  flope  refign*d  us  to  the  deep. 

We  faw  where  Pluto  ruFd  the  dark  domain. 

5"/.  XX.  /.  6.]    From  St.  Auguftine,  "  Cum  fiet  refurre£tio  camig, 
et  bonorum  gaudium  erit,  et  tormenta  majora* 


END   OF    THE    SIXTH    CANTO. 


Vol.  I. 


n 


C     H7    3 


CANTO    THE    SEVENTH. 


ARGUMENT. 
Dante  arrives  at  the  fourth  Region,  where,  under  the  immediate 
Government  of  Pluto,  (probably  PluTus,  the  fabled  God  of 
Riches)  he  finds  the  Souls  of  Mifers  and  Prodigals,  and  de-» 
fcribes  their  Angular  Employment. — Thence  he  proceeds  to  the 
fifth  Region,  vi'here,  in  different  departments,  fuited  to  their 
offences,  he  finds  the  Spirits  of  thofe  who  were  condemned  for' 
Deeds  of  ungovernable  Rage,  for  Selfiflinefs,  Envy,  or  habits  of 
inveterate  Malice. 


Prince  of  the  Fiends,"  a  voice  exclaimed, "  arife  5 
Behold  thy  realms  expos'd  to  mortal  eyes  l" 

It  ceas'd,  the  Bard  my  rifmg  fears  repreft. 
*'  Fear  not,"  he  cry'd,  "  but  flill  purfue  thy  way; 
He  boafts  no  pow'r  thy  voyage  to  delay 

To  the  dark  regions  of  the  world  unbleft." 

n. 

Then  turning  to  the  Fiend  with  high  difdain, 

*'  Ceafe,  Hell-hound,  ceafe  !  thy  boiling  rage  contain ; 

Haft  thou  forgot  the  fierce  avenging  fword, 
On  thy  afflicted  rear  when  Michael  hung? 
Know  Heav'n's  beheft !  and  rein  thy  impious  tongue. 

He  comes  obedient  to  the  almighty  word." 

La 


[     148     ] 

III. 
As  the  calmM  vefTel  furls  her  woven  wings, 
As  round  her  mafl  the  flagging  canvafs  clings, 

The  fwarthy  Satrap  footh'd  his  fwelling  ire: 
Then  coafl.ing  wide  around  the  awful  ftcep. 
We  faw  below  th*  interminable  deep, 

Where  all  the  plagues  of  either  world  confpire". 

IV. 

Juflice  of  Hcav*n !  from  thine  avenging  hand 
What  namelefs  toils  and  tortures  fill  the  ilrand ! 

Ah  !  why  on  mortal  failings  fo  fevere ! 
As  ScYLLA*s  rocks  the  thund'ring  furge  repel 
A  ceafelefs  Tourney  in  the  depths  of  Hell, 

With  deadly  tumult  fliook  the  nether  fphere. 

V. 
Legions  on  legions  round  the  difmal  coaft. 
With  lamentable  cries,  from  poft  to  pod 

RoU'd  the  metallic  mafs  along  the  plain : 
Up  the  fteep  fides  the  ponderous  globes  afcend 
Above,  the  fons  of  diflipatlon  fend 

In  ruin  down  the  pond'rous  globes  again. 
VI. 
"  Ah !  why  this  cruel  fport,"  the  mifers  cry  ? 
''  Why  this  vain  toil,"  the  prodigals  reply, 

"  Againft  the  hill  to  heave  the  flipp'ry  ore  ?" 
Again  the  mighty  combatants  retreat. 
Again  in  cumbrous  tournament  they  meet. 

Echoing  the  doleful  dirge  from  fhore  to  fhore. 

St.  vi.  /.  6.3     If  we  take  this  punifhmcnt  in  an  allegorical  fenfe, 
it  is  deiigned  to  defcnbe  the  mifery  that  attends  the  habitual,  and 

undue 


C     149     ] 

VII. 
*'  "What  monftrous  tale  do  yon*  employments  tell, 
Are  all  the  Abbies  empty'd  into  Hell  ?'* 

Wond'ring,  I  cry*d,  and  thus  the  Mantuan  fwain: 
"  Thefe  hoftile  tribes  lament  their  bitter  doom. 
Who  liv'd  above,  in  intelledual  gloom, 

The  flaves  of  wild  expence,  or  fordid  gain. 

VIII. 
"  Mark  where  they  meet,  on  yonder  plain  afar. 
Their  different  fongs  the  fignals  of  the  war ! 

And  learn  their  feveral  clans,  their  leaders  names. 
Yon'  heads  that  fluctuate  on  the  face  of  night, 
Whofe  polifh'd  fronts  reflefts  a  dubious  light. 

With  reverend  mitres  once  conceal' d  their  fliame. 

IX. 

**  Their  griping  hands  the  facred  ftores  confeft. ■* 
Then  I ;  "  Oh  tell !  among  thofe  fhades  unbleft, 

Is  there  no  form  familiar  to  my  fight  ?" 
Mild  he  reply'd,  "  Their  late  ignoble  fall 
Has  fpread  a  dark  refemblance  over  all. 

Nor  lefs  their  labours  in  the  womb  of  night, 

X, 

'*  But,  when  the  trump  of  doom  fhall  rend  the  air. 
Yon'  prodigals  fliall  rife  with  horrent  hair, 

undue  aAivity  of  the  fubordinate  powers  of  the  mind.     This  remark 
will  apply  to  all  the  penal  exhibitions  in  the  Poem. 

St.  vii.  /.  2.]     From  the  number  of  Clerical  Tonfures  feen  among 
them. 

L  3  And, 


[     '50    1 

And,  with  clench'd  hands  convuls'd,  the  favlng  crew. 
In  exile  now  they  mourn  their  gifts  abus'd, 
Or  tempcft  all  the  deep  in  fray  confus'd, 

A  fcene  unknown  before  to  fancy's  view. 

XI. 
"  Learn  hence  of  mortal  things  how  vain  the  boaft. 
Learn  to  defpife  the  low,  degen'rate  hoft. 

And  fee  their  wealth  how  poor,  how  mean  their  pride; 
Not  all  the  mines  below  the  wand*ring  moon. 
Not  all  the  fun  beholds  at  higheft  noon. 

Can  for  a  moment  bid  the  fray  fubfide." 


XII. 
Mufmg,  I  cry'd,  "  Oh  Fortune,  viewlefs  pow*r ! 
Whofe  flitting  gifts  purfue  the  changeful  hour : 

Say,  whence  thou  art  ?" — ^when  thus  the  Bard  rcr 
nown*d ;  [fpheres, 

**  See,  thoughtlefs  man !    the  hand  that  wheels  th? 
Where  each  to  each  the  radiant  bounty  bears. 
Dealing  the  portioned  light  to  worlds  around, 

XIII. 
*'  Fortune,  his  Delegate,  with  equal  hand 
Thus  fcatters  blefTings  from  her  lofty  ftand, 

Difperfmg  round  the  globe  her  traveled  boon, 
From  realm  to  realm  the  varied  bounties  run  ; 
In  vain  the  father  keeps  them  for  his  fon. 

Fail  they  forfake  him  with  the  waning  moon, 

XIV, 
**  To  thofe  her  fmiles  difpenfe  a  vernal  bloom, 
While  thefe  unnoted  pine  in  winter's  gloom  j 


i 


[     '5'     ] 

And,  as  fhe  fleets  away,  the  fummer  fades ; 
Fad  changing  dates  her  mighty  march  proclaim : 
Ev'n  wifdom  fmks  before  her  dreaded  name 

When  her  wide  charge  her  eagle  eye  pervades. 

XV. 
"  With  mighty  hand  the  fubjed  orb  fh&  rolls. 
No  chance  her  unrelenting  fway  controls, 

Fate  urging  on  her  courfe  with  angels  fpeed : 
By  turns  her  fubjefts  mount,  by  turns  they  call, 
Loud  curfes  on  her  name  for  ever  fall. 

While  Ihe  regardlefs  runs  her  path  decreed. 

XVI. 

'*  The  murmurs  deep  of  yonder  moody  fphere 
In  vain  afpire  to  reach  her  hallow'd  ear : 

For  ever  lift'ning  to  the  choral  fong 
Of  thofe  who  turn  the  mighty  mundane  wheel. 
Not  doom'd  the  thrilling  (haft  of  woe  to  feel. 

And  urging  ftill  their  flaming  orbs  along. 

St.  xiv.  /.  3.]  This  comparifon  of  the  difpenfations  of  Fortune 
with  the  progref  s  of  the  feafons,  is  equally  juft  and  beautiful.  There 
might  be  a  very  pretty  Poem  written  on  the  comparifon  of  the  ef- 
fefts  of  the  different  feafous  to  the  ftates  of  life  thai  refemble  them. 
In  winter  the  fun  kindly  withdraws  its  influence,  that  the  foil  may 
recover  that  vigour  which  had  been  exhaufted  in  fpring  and  fummer. 
Thus  a  ftate  of  indigence  calls  forth  thofe  talents,  and  ripens  that 
genius,  which  profperity  perhaps  would  have  extinguifhed.  Where 
thefe  forts  of  revolutions  happen  mofl  frequently  (as  in  a  commer- 
cial and  free  nation)  the  charadter  of  the  people  rifes,  and  they 
grow  eminent  in  arts  and  arms ;  but  if  we  were  to  fuppofe  for  a 
moment  one  order  of  men  always  to  enjoy  accumulated  riches,  and 
the  other  always  depreffed  in  poverty,  by  an  uniform  fentence,  the 
fpirit  of  enterprife  would  be  quite  extindl ;  the  one  part  of  the 
world  would  be  immerfed  in  vice,  and  the  other  funk  in  flavery. 

L4 


E   15^   3 

XVTt. 

"  But  hade  we  hence,  a  darker  lot  to  mourn : 
The  planet  now  has  reach'd  his  weflem  bourne. 

That  faw  our  toils  begin  with  rifing  day ; 
Thro'  yonder  ruin'd  cliffs  the  bellowing  deep 
With  hoarfe  din  tumbling  down  from  fteep  to  fleep. 

With  hollow  murmurs  mines  our  fated  way. 

XVIII. 
'*  Wafted  in  darknefs  down  the  pitchy  wave. 
We  faw  the  Stygian  pool  her  borders  lave. 

Fed  by  th'  aftounding  cataraft  on  high  ; 
Far,  far  below  we  fpy*d  the  fullen  flood. 
And  round  her  borders,  half  immersM  in  mud. 

We  faw  two  fquadrons  charge  with  frantic  cry. 

XIX. 

*'  Burning  with  rage,  but  impotent  of  hand. 
Naked  they  meet,  and  battle  round  the  ftrand. 

Now,  head  to  head,  their  claftiing  fronts  engage ; 
Each  other  now  with  lion-ramp  they  fpum. 
Then,  while  beneath  their  feet  the  wretches  mourn, 

Piecemeal  they  rend  their  limbs  with  brutal  rage, 

XX. 

"  Learn  hence  what  woes,"  the  fage  conductor  faid, 
**  Wait  the  devoted  crew  by  wrath  mifled  ! 

See  how  they  wallow  round  the  fordid  fhore ! 
Plung'd  in  the  deep,  another  hideous  crew, 
Where  yonder  bubbling  pool  attracts  the  view. 

With  fmother'd  groans  their  wayward  fate  deplore," 


[     ^53     1 

XXI. 

I  liften'd,  and  anon,  a  fullen  found 

Came  ftruggling  upwards  from  the  pool  profound 

In  words  half-form'd,  and  long  reludant  groans : 
*'  yi5y/<?A  ^^  viewed  the  fun's  benignant  beam. 
Now  here  we  hide  beneath  the  fullen  Jiream, 

Where  evWy  joy  the  envious  foul  difownsJ** 

XXII. 

Afar  we  coafted  round  the  lake  abhorr*d. 
With  Envy's  baleful  brood  innum'rous  ftorM ; 

While,  ftill  fome  wretch  amid  the  mantled  wave 
Panting,  renews  the  flory  of  his  woes, 
Faft  on  the  mournful  fong  the  furges  clofe. 

And  the  deep  ftruggling  files  inceffant  lave, 

St.  XXI.  /.  6.3  By  Accidiofi  in  the  original,  is  meant  the  felfifli 
or  Mifanthropes,  as  well  as  the  envious,  as  appears  from  the  Pur- 
GATORio,  where,  when  the  Poet  defcribes  the  purgation  of  this 

very  vice,  Accidia,  he  contrails  it  with  Benevolence. See  Me- 

MOiREs  DE  Petrarque,  tom.  ii.  109. 


END    OF   THE    SEVENTH    CANTO* 


I 


I     ^55    ] 


CANTO   THE   EIGHTH. 


A  RGUMENT. 
In  their  Paflagc  over  the  Pool  of  Envy,  in  the  Boat  of  Phle. 
GYAs,  the  Poets  meet  the  Soul  of  Philippo  Argenti,  a  noble 
Florentine,  remarkable  vv^hile  alive  for  his  outrageous  and  brutal 
paflions ;  on  the  other  fide  they  find  the  Metropolis  of  the  In- 
i^ERNAL  World,  vsrhere  they  apply  for  entrance  in  vain. 


1  HE  winding  path  a  gloomy  fabric  ends ; 
Its  heighth  with  pain  the  mortal  eye  afcends : 

Sudden  a  fignal  flames  from  either  fpire. 
The  waves  roll  pale  beneath  the  livid  light ; 
And,  glimmering  o'er  the  wafle  of  ancient  night. 
Faintly  appears  a  correfponding  fire. 

II. 

**  Whence  the  repeated  fign,  and  why  afar 
Refponfive  beams  yon*  half-extinguifhM  ftar?'* — 

I  alk'd,  and  thus  the  Mantuan  fage  reply 'd  : 
"  The  vapours  dun,  that  yonder  floods  exhale, 
Jlide  from  thy  mortal  eye  the  coming  fail, 

Led  by  the  fignal  from  the  further  fide." 


C    156   ] 
III. 

Swift  as  the  Parthian  arrow's  winged  flight. 
The  lone  barque  (kirns  along  the  face  of  night ; 

Her  courfe  a  folitary  Pilot  fteers. 
Exclaiming  loud,  "  Fell  Spirit !  art  thou  come  ? 
Embark !  and  feek  thine  everlafling  home  !** 

But  Virgil  faw,  and  checked  my  rifmg  fears. 

IV. 

"  Phlegyas  I"  he  cry'd,  "  thy  rancour  fwells  in  vain. 
We  pafs  the  nether  world  unknown  to  pain  : 

And  thy  fleet  barge  is  fent  our  way  to  fpeed.** 
As  one  that  feels  his  warmefl  hopes  betrayM, 
So  look'd,  and  fo  exclaini*d,  the  wrathful  fhade. 

When  Maro  trod  the  deck  devoid  of  dread. 

V. 

The  groaning  barge  confefl  unufual  weight. 
Her  yielding  timbers  fcarce  fuftain'd  the  freight. 

Plowing  the  fable  furge  with  plunging  prow. 
And  now  the  keel  divides  the  middle  flood  : 
When  rifmg  formlefs,  from  th'  abyfs  of  mud. 

Sudden,  a  ghailly  phantom  feem*d  to  grow. 

*'  Why  wert  thou  thus  condemn'd  before  thy  time  ?** 
He  cry*d  : — ^I  anfwerM  from  the  deck  fublime  : 

"  Commifllon'd  here,  I  come,  but  not  to  flay ; 
But  what  foul  fliape  art  thou,  that  flops  my  path  ?" 
He  anfwers,  "  One  that  mourns  the  fecond  death." 

And  foon  the  well-known  founds  the  wfetch  betray. 


i:  ^57  3 

VII. 

With  look  averfe  I  cry'd,  "  Devoted  fhade ! 
Go  mourn  thy  lot,  among  the  felf-betray'd. 

Too  well  I  know  thee  thro'  the  foul  difguife." 
Inflant,  with  eager  hand,  he  feizM  the  prow ; 
Bold  Maro  pufli*d  him  to  the  lake  below; 

Then  clafp'd  me  round  with  loud  exulting  cries. 

5"/.  vii.  /.  4.]  The  name  of  this  angry  fpirit  was  Phi  lip  po 
Argenti,  fo  called  becaufe  he  ufed  to  have  his  horfe  fhod  with 
filver. — His  brutal  paffions  made  him  the  inftrumcnt  of  a  ludicrous 
revenge,  inflicted  by  the  celebrated  Ciacco  (See  Canto  vi.)  on 
BioNDELLO,  another  epicure  of  Florence.  The  ftory  is  that  told 
by  BoccAcio,  in  his  Decamerone.     Giomata  9.     Novella  8. 

•♦*  There  dwelt  in  Florence  a  gentleman,  known  by  the  name  of 
GuiAcco,  or  CiAcco,  one  fo  fond  of  good  Hving,  that  his  whole 
fortune  was  barely  fufficient  to  fupply  the  expences  of  his  table. 
As  he  frequented  the  firft  company,  he  was  remarkable  for  a  good 
addrefs  and  agreeable  c-nverfation,  with  a  tinfture  df  that  modefl 
ajfurance  that  does  not  always  wait  for  invitation.  One  of  his  con- 
temporaries in  Florence  was  Biondello,  one  of  the  moft  finiflied 
beaus  of  the  13th  century.  "  He  was  (in  the  words  of  the  old 
•'  tranflation)  very  low  of  ftature,  yet  comely  form'd ;  more  neat 
**  and  briflc  than  a  butterfly,  ajways  wearing  a  wrought  filk  night- 
"  cap  on  his  head,  and  not  a  hair  ftanding  out  of  order,  but  the  tuft 
**  (or  tupee)  flowing  above  the  forehead:"  and  in  the  article  of 
good  living,  he  was  another  Ciacco. 

"  One  morning  in  Lent,  as  he  was  cheapening  two  lampreys  in 
the  fifh-market,  he  happened  to  fee  Ciacco,  in  a  reverie  of  morning 
contemplation  on  the  beauty  of  the  furrounding  objedts.  Bion- 
dello's  purchafe  awoke  him  from  his  dream  ;  he  enquired  eagerly 
for  whom  was  that  delicious  fare?  The  other  named.  Vie ro  de 
Cherchi,  one  of  the  heads  of  the  city;  and  added,  that  three 
othei  lampreys,  a  turbot,  and  a  fturgeon,  were  the  bill  of  fare  for 
the  day ;  and  that  a  feleft  company  were  invited.     Then  he  very 

gravely 


C    iss   J 

VIII. 
**  Blefl  foul !  that  fpurn'ft  at  fin  with  virtuous  fcom  j 
And  blefl  be  fhe  of  whom  fuch  worth  was  born ! 

Yon'  catifF  fee,  by  ceafelcfs  rage  pofTeft : 
Ere  his  detefted  life  had  reach 'd  her  goal, 
No  fpark  of  goodnefs  cheer'd  his  gloomy  foul. 

And  furious  flill  he  walks  the  Stygian  wafte. 


gravely  a{ked  Ciacco,  if  he  intended  to  make  one?  He  readily 
anfwered,  "  You  know  I  always  am  welcome  there."  Bionoello 
named  the  hour  of  dinner;  and,  punftual  to  a  minute,  Ciacco  at- 
tended. He  found  Viero  engaged  in  difcourfe  with  fome  gentle- 
men, and  waited  very  patiently  till  the  converfation  ended.  At  laft 
the  company  went  away.  Viero  afked  his  gueft  to  dine  with  him, 
in  a  manner  that  convinced  him  he  had  expected  no  company. 
Dinner  was  at  laft  ferved  up,  confifting  of  pulfe  and  fome  dried  ii(h. 
CiAcco  immediately  perceived  the  trick  that  was  put  upon  him  by 

BiONDHLLO,  and  refolved  to  be  even  with  him. In  a  few  days 

after,  Bjondello  met  him  ;  and,  with  a  fneer,  aflced  him  how  he 
liked  his  entertainment  ?  "  Exceeding  well  (replied  Ciacco);  per- 
"  haps  before  eight  days  I  may  have  an  opportunity  of  fhewing  my 
"  gratitude." — Shortly  after  Biondello  left  him,  Ciacco  met  a 
porter,  called  him  to  his  houfe,  and  giving  him  a  large  flafk,  bade 
him  follow  him.  He  led  him  to  the  palace  of  Caccivuli,  and  there 
fliewed  him  a  gentleman  of  gigantic  fize  and  choleric  afpedt,  walk- 
ing about  with  that  expreffion  of  countenance  defcribed  in  the  Ba- 
thos of  Pope  : 

He  look'd  fo  wond'rous  grim, 

His  very  (hadow  fear'd  to  follow  him. 

This  was  Philippo  Argenti,  the  moft  irritable  of  all  human 
beings.  "  Go  to  that  gentleman  (fays  Ciacco),  and  tell  him, 
*•  that  Biondello  fends  to  him,  and  entreats  him,  as  he  is  a  cek- 
*'  brated  glafs-painter,  that  he  will  erublnate  your  bottle  with  his 
"  beft  claret,  as  he  has  fome  friends  to  treat : — but  take  care  to 

•*  keep 


[     159    ] 

IX. 

"  There  many  a  regal  Chief  of  ancient  note, 
Wallowing  thro'  mire  obfcene  lament  their  lot, 

In  ruin  roll'd,  like  brethren  of  the  fty." 
*'  Oh  !  could  I  fee,"  ftill  trembling  I  exclaim'd, 
"  By  Heav'n's  affliding  hand  his  fury  tam'd. 

Ere  yet  our  Pilot  reach  the  harbour  nigh/* 


**  keep  out  of  his  reach,  as  he  is  apt  to  pay  his  meflenger  in  a  coin 
"  not  always  current." — The  porter  dehvered  his  meflage,  and 
Argenti  immediately  conftrued  it  into  an  infult,  from  the  known 
charafter  of  Biondello.  With  a  menacing  voice  he  defired  the 
Porter  to  come  near,  and  he  would  (how  him  and  his  bottle  a  fpe- 
cimen  of  that  glafs -painting  that  Biondello  required.  The  Por- 
ter, fearing  the  confequence,  kept  aloof,  and  at  laft  fairly  took  to 
his  heels. — Ciacco,  when  the  porter  returned,  paid  him  liberally  ; 
and  having  thus  laid  the  plot,  fet  out  immediately  in  queft  of 
Biondello,  to  bring  him  in  the  way  of  Argenti  before  his  wrath 
fhould  fubfide.  By  this  time  Biondello  had  forgot  what  had 
pafled ;  when  Ciacco  met  him  with  an  earneft  countenance,  and 
afked  him  when  he  had  been  at  the  palace  of  Caccivuli  ?  "  Why 
•' do  you  afk  ?"  retiirned  the  other.  "Argenti  (fays  Ciacco) 
"  has  been  in  queft  of  you  this  whole  day,  about  bufinefs  of  the 
"  laft  importance."  Biondello,  expcfting  a  good  dinner  at  leaft, 
immediately  ran  into  the  fnare,  while  CiAcco  followed  at  a  proper 
diftance,  to  fee  the  iffue. 

"  Argenti,  meantime,  boiling  with  indignation  at  the  fuppofed 
affront  couched  in  the  meflage  from  Biondello,  was  at  the  very 
inftant  amufing  himfelf  with  plans  of  the  moft  fanguinary  revenge, 
when  the  unfortunate  Biondello  accofted  him,  and  requefted  to 
know  his  commands.  The  firft  falutation  Argenti  returned  was 
a  blow  on  the  face  that  covered  him  over  with  blood.  The  un- 
happy beau  in  vain  demanded  the  meaning  of  this  outrage ;  the 

other 


[      i^o     ] 

X. 

The  Bard  reply 'd  ;  "  Yet,  ere  the  coming  {hore 
Slackens  the  labour  of  the  draining  oar. 

Expert  thy  wifh  to  fee."     Nor  more  he  faid  ; 
When  round  the  barriers  came  a  cry  of  war, 
"  Seize,  feize  the  Florentine,  refounds  afar  ; 

Wliilcfafl  Argenti  fled,  by  fear  betray'd. 

XI. 

I  heard  the  fiends  their  brother  demons  call, 
I  faw  the  hunted  foe  exhaufted  fall ; 

And,  fpending  on  himfelf  his  bootlefs  rage. 
With  bloody  fangs  ;  I  could  not  bear  the  fight. 
But  hurried  onward  thro'  th*  abyfs  of  night, 

While  following  groans  my  flartled  ear  engage. 


other  made  no  anfwer,  but  by  a  fecond  blow ;  and  his  choler 
rifing,  he  tore  ofF  his  fine  embroidered  cap  and  feather,  feized  him 
by  the  toupee,  and  began  to  drag  him  through  the  mire.  A  crowd 
gathering,  they  were  with  difficulty  feparated ;  and,  after  a  great 
many  ijj,coherent  oaths,  an  explanation  was  obtained  from  Ar- 
genti. When  the  crowd  heard  the  infulting  meflage,  which,  by 
Argenti's  account,  BiosDELLohad  fent  to  him  :  they  threw  the 
blame  upon  the  latter,  as  he  mull  have  known  the  irrafcible  temper 
of  his  antagonift.  In  vain  the  unfortunate  vi£tim  protefted,  that  he 
never  had  fent  any  fuch  meflage,  and  that  it  muft  have  been  a  mif- 
take.  At  lall  he  recollected  the  affair  of  the  lampreys  ;  and  then 
learnt,  tliough  too  late,  to  whofe  account  he  might  place  the  affair. 
Soon  after  meeting  Ciacco,  he  was  aflced  how  he  liked  the  claret 
of  Argenti  ?  "As  well  (fays  he)  as  you  liked  the  lampreys  at 

*•  ViERo's." "  By  this  tokai  remember,  (fays  Ciacco,)  that 

**  fuch  a  dinner,  where  you  are  the  caterer,  will  always  procurr 
**  fuch  a  bottle  of  wine,  where  I  have  any  intercft  with  the  butler." 


[  I6I  ] 

XIL 

Biit  other  clamours  now,  diflin£l  and  clear^ 
With  hubbub  wild,  affail'd  my  ftartled  ear  j 

"  There  Hell's  dire  fenate  fits  in  awful  flate : 
Her  dark  Divan  the  lofty  hall  furrounds. 
Her  citadel  the  baleful  profped:  bounds, 

And  pours  her  millions  forth  at  every  gate.'* 

xm. 

Thus  Maro  fpoke,  and  thus  abrupt  I  faid, 
"  I  fee !  I  fee !  thro'  Night's  difclofmg  (hade. 

Hell's  pyramids,  that  feem  afcending  fires  \ 
"Why  feem  yon'  tow'rs  in  crimfon  light  to  glow  ?** 
"  The  fiery  floods,"  he  cry'd,  "  that  roll  belowj 

A  baleful  fplendour  caft  on  yonder  fpires;'* 

XIV. 

Now  fmoothly  fleering  down  the  deep  canal. 
Trembling,  we  coafted  round  the  lofty  wall ; 

High  mounds  of  burning  fteel !  that  front  the  coafli 
Still  our  unweary'd  oars  the  furges  fweep : 
At  length,  exclaim'd  the  Pilot  of  the  deep, 

*'  Hafte,  hafle  on  fhorej  and  feize  the  fated  poll  1'* 

XV. 

iBut  foon,  at  ev'ry  paf§,  the  Guard  of  Hell-, 
Who  erft  from  Heav'n  in  flaming  ruin  fell— 

"  Stop  there,  prefumptuous  Man,"  indignant  cry'dj 
*'  Let  not  thy  mortal  feet  our  bounds  profane. 
Nor  venture  to  furvey  our  myftic  reign." 

The  Bard  a  parley  fought. — The  Demons  cry'd. 
Vol.  li  M 


L    162   ] 

XVI. 

•'  Come  thou !  and  let  the  Mortal  find  his  way. 
All  dark,  and  guidelefs,  to  the  realms  of  day  j 

Send  him  to  feek  the  path  he  lately  trod ! 
But  thee,  his  guide,  another  doom  awaits, 
Ordain'd  within  thofe  adamantine  gates 

For  ever  to  endure  the  penal  rod.'* 

XVII. 
Heavy  and  damp  the  deadly  fentence  fell ; 
Then,  who  the  temped  of  my  foul  can  tell ! 

All  folitary  left,  of  friends  forlorn  ! — 
*'  Paternal  fhade,'*  1  cry'd,  "  whofe  guardian  arm 
Led  me  thro*  fields  of  fate,  fecure  from  harm, 

Leave  me  not  thus,  in  endlefs  night  to  mourn! 

xvin. 

*'  If  yon'  forbidden  gate  the  Demons  bar. 
Why  linger  here,  and  tempt  unequal  war  ? 

St.  xvi  /  6.]  The  difficulty  the  Poets  meet  with  in  finding 
their  way  into  the  Theatre  of  Herefy,  is  not  introduced  merely  to 
enliven  the  poem  with  an  embarrafTment.  The  Demons  oppofe  the 
detection  of  thofe  fcenes  where  that  falfe  philofophy  is  punifiied* 
whofe  employment  it  had  been  to  glofs  over  vice  by  the  colours  of 
eloquence,  and  fupport  it  by  argument  ;  as  by  that  they  ftrike  at 
the  root  of  all  moral  obligation,  and  endeavour  to  loofen  every  tie. 
of  fociety.  And  as  the  powers  of  darknefs  are  defcribed  as  thus 
employed  belowy  we  find  above,  that  fuch  is  the  allurement  of  vice, 
and  fuch  the  fophiftry  of  the  Paflions  in  defending  thcmfelves,  that 
though  the  opinions  dangerous  to  morality  and  religion  are  ftill  an- 
fwered,  they  ftill  fprout  up  anew  in  different  fhapes,  and  afford,  if 
not  the  mofl  difficult,  yet  the  mofl  troublefome  employment  to  the 
advocates  of  reafon  and  truth. 

When 


C     t63     ] 

When  Fate  herfelf  commands  us  to  retire  !'* 
"  And  wilt  thou  hearken  flill  to  daftard  fear  ? 
Heard'ft  thou  the  call,"  he  cry'd,  "  that  fent  us  here  ? 

Down,  down,  it  leads  us  thro'  yon'  central  fire !" 

XIX. 

**  Tremble  no  more,  but  here  in  filence  flay. 
While  I  explore  the  dangers  of  the  way : 

Nor  doubt  my  quick  return."     He  fpoke,  and  fled. 
Lonely  I  {Iray'd  along  the  difmal  fhore, 
Pond'ring  the  flrange  adventure  o'er  and  o'er. 

And  dill  his  ling'ring  flay  increas'd  my  dread. 

XX. 

The  parley  ends ;  the  maffy  gates  unfold, 
And  in  the  Stygian  crew  by  thoufands  roll'd. 

While  on  their  rear  the  clanging  portals  clofe. 
The  Bard,  returning  thence,  demure  and  flow. 
While  on  his  afpe£l  hung  a  cloud  of  woe. 

Sadly  exprefs'd  his  anguifh,  as  it  rofe : 

XXI. 

•*  Shall  our  commiflion'd  courfe  determine  here? 
Shall  yon'  black  Cherubim  their  enfigns  rear  ? 

In  vain — for  other  arms  fhall  force  our  way  !— 
Defpond  not  thou !  but  wait  th'  eventful  hour  ; 
'Their  pride  of  old  oppos'd  a  mightier  pow'r, 

Whofe  force  yon'  ruin'd  battlements  difplay. 

XXII. 
"  Yon'  valves  that  never  clofe,  the  Viftor  pafs'd  j 
Before  him  yawn'd  th*  interminable  wafle  ; 
M  3 


[     '64     ] 

Th*  eternal  dungeons  lay  in  ruin  round) 
The  Stygian  hod  his  fingle  arm  withflood ; 
And  well  they  knew  what  deadly  woes  enfued : 

Where  op'ning  Hades  mourns  his  ancient  wound.* 


END   OF    THE    EIGHTH    CAKTO. 


^1 


[     ^^5    3 


CANTO   THE   NINTH. 


ARGUMENT, 

By  the  Interpofition  of  an  unexpe£led  Vifitant,  the  Poets  at  lengtll 
obtain  admifllon  within  the  walls  of  the  Metropolis. — Here 
the  firfl  obje£l  prefented  to  the  view  is  the  Theatre  of  He.- 
RESY  :  where,  among  the  other  Heresiarchs^  they  find  the 
Souls  of  a  Pope  and  an  Emperor. 


LIE  fpoke,  I  felt  the  cold  contagion fpread : 
The  friendly  jpirit  faw  my  riling  dread, 

And  with  diffembled  hope  afluag'd  my  fear : 
Then  flood  fufpenfe  awhile,  and  liften'd  round 
Where  fogs,  tumultuous  roll'd,  the  fight  coiifound 

In  vain !  no  welcome  fummons  met  his  ear. 

II. 

^^  Conquefl  was  promls'd  by  the  pow'rs  on  high  ; 
Can  Heav-n  recede  !  and  Hell  its  force  defy  ? 

Why  (lays  her  meflenger !"  an^az'd  he  faid, 
1  mark'd  his  wav'ring  mind,  and  inftant  drew 
Conclufions  unforefeen,  and  terrors  new, 

prom  the  deep  mufings  of  the  Mantuan  fhadc, 
M3 


[     166    ] 

III. 

"  On  Heirs  extremeft  bound  thy  lot  was  thrown. 
What  could  allure  thee  thus  thro'  worlds  unknown. 

From  yon*  calm  fphere  beyond  the  reach  of  pain  ? 
Did  any  one  before  the  voyage  try  ?" 
I  fpoke,  and  this  the  Mantuan's  mild  reply  : 

"  Long  fmce,  my  feet  explor'd  the  dark  domain ! 

IV. 

"  Scarce  had  I  left  the  cheerful  bounds  of  day. 
When,  new  to  all  the  terrors  of  the  way, 

Erictho  fent  me  thro'  the  flaming  deep. 
Fearlefs  I  plung'd  among  the  felon  crew, 
And  from  the  midfl  a  chofen  fpirit  drew 

In  long  reluctance  up  the  horrid  fteep. 


n 


V. 

Her  potent  word  the  nether  deep  difplay'd. 
Where  Judas  hides  in  Hell's  remoteft  fhade. 

And  bade  the  ghofls  obey  her  mighty  law : 
Wont  to  infpire  the  fealed  lips  of  death 
With  fad  prophetic  founds,  and  magic  breath. 

The  Sorc'refs  held  the  central  world  in  awe." 

St.  iv.  /.  3.]  A  famous  Sorcerefs  of  Sicily,  to  whom  Sextus, 
fon  of  Pomp  EY,  came,  according  to  Luc  an,  to  learn  the  event  of 
the  battle  of  Pharfaliay  and  his  own  fate.  Her  incantations  arc 
difplayed  in  the  fixth  book  of  Pharfaliay  with  great  pomp  of  num- 
bers, and  a  certain  wild  fublimity.  She  is  there  defcribed  as  hunt- 
ing over  the  field  of  battle  for  a  corpfe,  not  yet  cold,  as  the  fitteft 
for  her  necromantic  purpofes.  She  infpires  him  with  new  life,  and 
renders  him  vocal  by  the  afliftance  of  the  fpirit  which  Virgil  men« 
tioDs  here. 


[     i67     1      . 

VI. 

Where  yonder  noifome  fogs  eternal  rife 
From  the  pale  wave,  and  intercept  the  ikies, 

Fearlefs  I  paft  yon*  ever-burning  fpires. 
*'  Tho*  danger  keeps  the  gate,'*  th*  unfinilh*d  word 
Broke  off,  fucceeded  by  a  fight  abhorr'd, 

Hov'ring  on  high  amid  the  folding  fires. 

VII. 

Three  female  forms,  with  recent  blood  embru'd. 
On  the  tall  battlements  in  council  flood. 

And  ev'ry  face  a  fnaky  vizor  wore  : 
Green  warping  Hydras  form*d  the  flowing  veft. 
And  twin*d  Ceraflas  wove  the  horrent  crefl, 

Whofe  mingled  hiffmgs  ran  around  the  fhore, 

VIII. 

My  guide,  who  knew  the  daughters  of  defpair, 
Exclaim*d,  "  behold  Megara*s  threat'ning  air  j 

Yonder  her  deep  remorfe  Alec  to  feeds  ! 
The  third,  yet  fiercer  flill  an  hideous  ftore 
Of  vengeance  hoards,  and  counts  it  o'er  and  o'er, 

The  dire  atonement  of  unrighteous  deeds," 

IX. 

Soon  as  they  fpy'd  us  from  their  flatlon  high. 
They  fent  a  fcream  that  fhook  the  gloomy  fky, 

5"/.  viii.  /.  4.]     Alluding  to  the  meaning  of  the  name  Tisiphone^ 
u  c.  the  avenger  of  blood. 

M4  An4 


C     i68     ] 

And  beat  their  breafls,  and  menacM  from  afer, 
**  Away !"  Mepusa  thunders  at  the  gate ; 
**  Her  flern  petrific  eye  fhall  fix  your  fate. 

Away !  grqat  Theseus  felt  our  force  in  war." 

X. 
**  Turn,  turn  away,  the  trembling  Poet  cries, 
Lefl  that  portentous  vifion  meet  thine  eyes.** 

Speaking  he  turn'd  averfe,  nor  I  delay *d, 
With  folded  hands,  to  hide  my  darken'4  light ; 
His  kind  paternal  hands  their  aid  unite, 

And  cover  my  pale  face  with  friendly  fhade. 

XI. 
(Ye  found  of  intellect !  the  truth  retain. 
Hide  in  the  mazes  of  the  myllic  flrain) 

Not  long  we  flood,  till  thro*  the  vafl  profound, 
Difmal  afar,  but  more  aftounding  near, 
A  mingled  tumult  flruck  my  fiartled  ear. 

The  vaulted  deep  and  trembling  fhore  refound. 

XII. 
A  whirlwind  thus,  the  child  of  heav'nly  wrath, 
Thro'  the  tall  forefl  fweeps  an  ample  path. 

And  rends  their  fhatter'd  boughs,  and  flings  afar  j 
Thro'  the  long  avenue  in  dufty  pride 
The  defolating  God  is  feen  to  ride. 

And  flocks  and  fwains  avoid  the  coming  war. 

xni. 

'*  Now  turn  thy  fharpen'd  eye  to  yonder  fleep. 
Where  damps  and  noifome  fogs  eternal  weep." 

IlookM! 


C   169   ] 

I  looked !  and  faw  a  throng,  in  deep  difmay. 
Flying  in  fhoais  ;  as  when  the  finny  train 
Before  the  fable  monarch  of  the  main 

Innum'rous  feud,  and  fill  the  ample  bay.  ' 

XIV. 
Thus  in  loud  ruin  came  the  bands  forlorn  i 
Behind,  a  godUke  form  in  tempeft  borne, 

Urg*d  the  foul  flight  acrofs  the  fable  flood : 
Before  his  lifted  arm  the  vapours  hoar. 
In  gloomy  volumes  roU'd  to  either  flipre ; 

And  full  difcios'd  the  heav'nly  vifion  fl:ood. 

XV. 
I  watch'd  the  Mantuan  look — he  gave  the  fign  j 
At  once  with  rev'rend  awe  our  heads  decline. 

He  anfwer'd  not,  but  turn'd  a  wrathful  eye, 
Full  on  the  gate  oppos'd.     His  beamy  wand 
The  portal  fmote,  it  felt  the  heav'nly  hand, 

The  jarring  valves  disjoin,  and  open  fly. 

XVI. 
Full  in  the  flaming  arch  the  Seraph  flood, 
"  Exiles  of  Heav'n  !"  he  cry'd,  "  rebellious  brood ! 

Learn  lefs  prefumption,  and  his  arm  to  dread 
Whofe  fov-reign  will  admits  of  no  control ; 
Whofe  vpllied  thunders  oft  were  heard  to  roll 

Thro'  the  fad  regions  of  the  fentenc'd  dead ! 

XVII. 
"  Dare  ye  contend  with  Heav'n,  ye  fons  of  night  ? 
Think  how  your  Jailer  mourn'd  a  Mortal*s  might  !** 

He 


[   170  ] 

He  ceasM,  and  frowning  left  the  gates  of  death  : 
Silent  and  ftern  the  Mantuan  (hade  he  pafl, 
Then  mounted  upwards  on  a  whirlwind  blafl. 

Like  one  that  bum'd  with  unextinguifh'd  wrath, 

XVIIL 
To  the  unguarded  gate  we  bent  our  way. 
Secure  of  conqueft  in  the  Stygian  fray  ; 

And  ent*ring  flow,  our  careful  eyes  explore 
The  Heav'n-built  fortrefs  of  eternal  wrath  ; 
Where  viewlefs  tortures  lin'd  the  plains  beneath. 

And  execrations  ran  from  fhore  to  fliore. 

XIX. 

As  where  old  Arli  fees  the  ftagnant  flood. 

Or  nigh  Quarnaro  fliain'd  with  Istrian  blood, 

Long  fepulchres  deform  the  fun'ral  field  : 
Thus  ridgy  rofe,  and  bold,  the  burning  fpace ; 
But  deeper  dykes  the  Stygian  foil  deface. 

And  ev'ry  tomb  a  flxuggling  victim  held« 

St.  xvii.  /.  5.3  An  allufion  to  our  Saviour*8  descent  into  HeU. 
See  Canto  4th,  and  the  conclufion  of  Canto  8th,  where  this  note,  by 

a  lapfe  of  the  memory,  was  omitted. It  was  the  opinion  of  the 

times  that  our  Saviour  defcended  not  only  into  the  ftate  of  the  dead, 
(Hades,)  but  into  the  region  of  eternal  punifliment,  to  fhew  his  do- 
minion at  once  over  death  and  hell,  and  to  lead  from  the  Limbus 
Patrum,  the  Patriarchs  and  Antideluvians  in  triumph.  See  his 
retinue  defcribed.  Canto  4th.  There  are  numberlefs  alluflons  to 
this  through  the  Poem. 

Si.  six.  /.I.]  A  City  of  Provence,  where  Charlemagne  over- 
threw the  Saracens  in  a  pitched  battle,  but  with  great  flaughtcr  of 
the  French. 


C    171    3 

XX. 

Round  each  fad  furnace  glows  a  lamping  flame. 
And  ev'ry  cell  reflefts  a  ruddy  gleam : 

MaiTes  of  molten  fteel  they  feem'd  afar. 
Some  pow*r  fufpends  their  burning  valves  on  high. 
And  fends  abroad  the  lamentable  cry 

Of  prifon'd  fouls  that  curfe  their  natal  flar. 

XXI. 

•'  Ah,  Guide  divine !  explain  this  horrid  fight ; 
Say,  who  are  they  that  mourn  their  wretched  plight 

In  yon*  deep  dungeons  of  outrageous  fire  ?*' 
"  There  the  Heresiarchs  dwell,"  the  Poetfaid, 
*'  Who  their  fad  profelytes  from  truth  mifled. 

Their  impious  followers  fill  the  difmal  choir. 

XXII. 

'*  In  fubterranean  tribes  beneath  the  plain 
The  vidims  lie,  condemn'd  to  various  pain ; 

As  each  more  deeply  drank  of  error's  wave 
Millions  unthought  the  dift:ant  bound  poffefs." 
Thus  fpeaking,  down  the  wid'ning  path  we  prefs. 

Where  the  wall  frowns  o'er  many  a  flaming  grave. 


^ND   OF    THE    NINTH   CANTO. 


C    ^7i   3 


CANTO  THE  TENTH. 


ARGUMENT. 
Dante  obtaining  Permiflion  to  addrefs  the  Heresiarchs,  finds 
among  the  reft  Guido  Cavalconti  and  Farinata  Uberte, 
two  noble  Florentines  ;  the  latter  of  whom  gives  an  obfcurc 
Intimation  to  the  Poet,  of  his  impending  Exile,  and  accounts  for 
this  extraordinary  Privilege  of  forefeeing  things  eiijoyed  by  the 
Tribes  below. 


1  HE  Bard  proceeds,  and  guides  my  trembling  feet 
Where  round  the  plain  the  awful  turrets  meet. 

"  Oh,  thou !"  I  cry'd,  "  whofe  fage  conducing  hand 
Teaches  my  flieps  the  dark  degrees  to  found, 
Say,  is  it  giv'n  to  fearch  the  flaming  round. 

And  learn  the  ftories  of  the  fentenc'd  band  ? 

II. 
**  See  from  afar  their  op'ning  tombs  invite, 
And  no  invidious  band  appears  in  fight."  fclofc 

"  Thefe  tombs,'*  he  cry'd,  "  the  hand  of  fate  Ihall 
When  from  the  vale  of  doom  their  fouls  return, 
Embodied  each  in  fiercer  fires  to  burn, 
Dire  confummation  of  their  endlefs  woes. 
5 


[     174     1 

III. 
*'  Where  yon*  red  furnace  glows  amid  the  fire 
Old  Epicurus  heads  the  impious  choir; 

Who  thought  the  foul  an  air  of  fleeting  breath. 
For  ever  now  his  dire  miflake  he  mourns. 
Go !  where  among  his  train  the  Atheill  bums. 

And  learn  the  fecrets  of  the  fecond  death. 

IV. 

«  Thy  eager  wifli  I  fee !"— Abafh'd,  I  faid, 
*'  Thy  counfel  kind  my  eager  wifli  allay 'd ; 

When  my  too  lib'ral  tongue  thy  care  controlled  !** 
He  anfwer'd  not ;  for  deep  within  the  ground 
A  voice  exclaim'd,  "  Oh,  hail !  thou  welcome  found. 

That  tun'd  my  tongue  on  Arno*s  banks  of  old. 

V. 

*'  What  wayward  chance.  Oh  !   gentle  Tuscan,  tell ! 
Conducts  thee  thro'  the  flaming  bounds  of  Hell, 

A  mortal  man  ?" — With  quick  inflinclive  dread 
I  feiz'd  my  Guide  ;  when  thus  the  Mantuan  bold  :— 
"  Turn,  daftard,  turn  !  and  Hubert's  fhade  behold  ! 

See !  from  the  flaming  verge  he  lifts  his  head." 

Sf.  iii.  /.  I.]  Thofe  who  had  abufed  the  gifts  of  undcrftanding, 
and  endeavoured  to  pervert  or  obfcure  the  convictions  of  reafon, 
or  the  dodtrines  of  Revelation,  are  here  fubjedled  to  an  appro- 
priate punifhment  confifting  in  the  inflicted  horrors  of  their  own 
tinderftanding,  fublinied  by  pain,  and  "  i/je  keen  vibrations  of  eUr- 
nal  truth  ;"  denoted  by  the  refleded  hght  from  burning  Heel. 

St.  V.  /.  5.]  Farinata,  of  the  illuftrious  family  of  the  Uberti 
of  Florence,  an  Epicurean  or  materialift  by  principle,  one 
**  who  thought  the  foul  an  air  of  fleeting  breath." — Ke  was  the 
principal  of  the  Ghibelline  or  Imperial  faftion. — See  Florentine 
Hiftory  annexed,  in  the  reference  to  this  Canto. 


II 


C    175   ] 

VI. 

Half-fpringing  from  the  tomb  he  feem'd  to  fcorn. 
With  high  and  haughty  mien  his  lot  forlorn : 

His  eye  met  mine,  the  Mantuan  feiz'd  my  hand. 
And  led  me  thro'  the  dire  fepulchral  fcene. 
Where  winds  a  path  the  burning  tombs  between. 

"  Now  fpeak,"he  cry'd,  "and  tell  thy  bold  demand?'* 
VII. 
Near  the  red  furnace  In  fufpenfe  I  flood. 

The  fpeftre  view'd  me  round  with  furious  mood: 
And,  "  Mortal !  whence  thy  race,"  intent  he  cry*d. 

With  falt'ring  voice  my  lineage  I  difplay'd ; 

*'  Thou  nam*ft  my  deadheft  foes,"  reply*d  the  fhade, 

*'  And  oft*  the  prowefs  of  this  arm  they  try'd.'* 

VIII. 
*'  My  arm  twice  fwept  them  from  their  native  plain  ; 

Yet  twice  they  wip'd  away  th'  ignoble  ftain." 

Stern  I  reply'd,  "  while  thine  in  exile  mourn'd." 

Rous'd  at  the  word,  another  fhade  appear'd. 

High  o'er  the  flaming  verge  his  front  he  rear'd. 

While  in  his  fparkling  eye  impatience  bum'd. 

IX. 

Eager  he  look'd  along  the  glimm'ring  fhore. 

And  difappointment  blanch'd  his  vifage  o'er : 

"Oh,  Alighieri!  Oh,  my  friend!"  he  cry'd, 
*'  If  to  thy  daring  foul  this  difmal  path 
Spontaneous  opens  thro'  the  vale  of  death. 
Why  has  my  Guido  left  thy  faithful  fide  ?" 

5"/.  ix.  /.  3.]  Here  is  an  inftance  that  the  Poet  diftributes  his 
punifhment  according  Lo  his  ftri£left  notions  of  the  criminal's  de- 
merit  Guido  Cavalcanti  (the  fpedre  meant  here)  was  a  Gueif  of 

the  white  faftion,  as  Dante  was,  and  his  moil  intimate  friend  ;  but 

tindlured 


[    ^76    J 

X. 

**  A  hand  conduds  me  thro*  the  realms  of  pain,'* 
I  cr)'*d,  "  which  haply  Guido  would  difdain," 

(For  by  his  voice  the  fpeftre  foon  was  known.) 
*'  Say,  feels  he  dill  the  fun's  benignant  beam 
Again,'*  he  faid,  "  or  here  in  Hell's  extreme 

Sends  from  afar  the  never-dying  groan  :'* 

XI. 
Sufpenfe  awhile  he  waited  my  reply,  * 

Then  funk  defpairing  with  a  feeble  cry. 

Stem,  and  unmov'd,  the  other  (hade  remains, 
Pond*ring  the  fortunes  of  his  exil'd  race  : 
"  I  mourn,  I  mourn,'*  he  cry'd,  "  their  deep  difgrace^ 

More  than  the  cinfture  of  thefe  burning  chains. 

XII. 

*'  But  ere  the  fiftieth  moon  Ihall  gild  her  horrt 
The  vanquifti'd  (hall  rejoice,  the  vidor  mourn. 

— But  whence  this  lading  hate  to  Hubert's  blood. 
That  breathes  flill  deadly  in  the  voice  of  law  ?'* 
"  The  direful  caufe,'*  I  cry'd,  "  Valdarbia  faw. 

When  to  the  main  fhe  roU'd  a  fanguine  flood. 

tinftured  with  the  principles  of  materlallfm. See  a  beautiful  Imi- 
tation of  a  Sonnet  addreffed  to  his  Son  by  Dante,  in  Mr.  Hayley's 
notes  to  his  Effay  on  Epic  Poetry. 

St.x.L  2.3  This  was  the  Guido  to  whom  the  Sonnet  before 
mentioned  was  addreffed. — The  Poet  alludes  here  to  his  preference 
of  the  Philofophers  to  the  Poets,  a  point  on  which  they  had  many 
amicable  contefts. 

jSt.  xi.  /.  3.3     Viz.  Far'inata  Hubert't. 

St.  xii.  /.  3.3  Hubert  here  obfcurely  prophefies  the  expulfion  of 
the  Guelfs  by  Charles  of  Valois,  and  the  exile  of  Dante.  See  Mb' 
Life  and  of  Dante,  and  Florentine  Hillory  annexed. 


t  ml 
i  xm. 

I     Sighing,  he  cry'd,  "  Was  mine  the  fingle  hand 
[      That  with  your  fadtious  blood  embath'd  the  ftrand  ? 
Did  no  juft  vengeance  point  my  lifted  fpear  ? 
But  this  fole  arm,  above  ignoble  dread, 
Warded  the  vengeance  burfting  o'er  your  head. 
When  trembling  Florence  faw  perdition  near.'* 

XIV. 
*'  Hubert,"  I  cry'd,  "  the  myftery  explain, 
(So  may  your  blood,  reftor'd,  in  Florence  reign) 

And  kindly  folve  my  doubt ;  for  fchoolmen  tell. 
Fate  to  the  fiends  fo  deals  her  dubious  light. 
That  prefent  things  efcape  their  clouded  light. 

While  future  fcenes  are  clearly  known  in  Hell." 

XV. 

*'  In  thefe  fad  realms,"  the  Tuscan  foul  replies, 
*'  Diftind:  the  fcenes  of  future  time  arife, 

While  Hill  the  fading  prefent  fleets  obfcure  : 
Nought  know  the  fentenc'd  tribes  of  pafling  things, 
Unlefs  fome  wretch  condemn'd  the  tidings  brings 

Frelh  from  the  ftains  of  yonder  clime  impure. 

St.  XV.  /.  6. J  As  the  great  caufe  of  vice  in  this  world  is  pre- 
ferring the  Prefent  to  the  Future^  the  Poet  has  invented  a  fpecies  o£ 
punifhment,  where  this  order  is  reverfed,  where  the  Future  in- 
creafes  the  mifery  of  the  condemned,  by  predominating  over  the 
Present.  Even  in  this  world,  the  fufFerings  of  them  who  have 
the  misfortune  to  be  the  viftims,  Frenzy  and  Defpair,  fcem  princi- 
pally to  confift  in  a  dreadful  dejection  or  irritation  of  mind,  when 
deprived  of  felf-poffelSon  : 

It  makes  the  Past,  present;  and  the  Future,  frown. 

Young. 
Vol.  I.  N 


[     '78     ] 

XVI. 

"  This  privilege  alone  our  fquadrons  boafl:, 
Till  Prefent,  Pad,  and  Future,  all  are  loft 

In  final  doom,  and  time  fhall  be  no  more." 
Vext  at  my  fault,  "  Oh,  tell  thy  fad  compeer  1" 
1  cry'd,  "  his  Guido,  caufe  of  all  his  fear. 

Yet  ftrays  delighted  on  the  Tuscan  Ihore. 

XVII. 
"  This  had  I  told  ere  now  ;  but  thoughts  perplexed, 
Tho'  now  refolv'd,  my  anxious  bofom  vext ; 

And  now  adieu, — ^my  Guide  forbids  my  ftay  1" 
"  But  firft  declare  what  fellows  of  the  tomb, 
In  burning  cells  await  the  final  doom, 

Secluded  ever  from  the  hope  of  day." 

XVIII. 
*'  Round  (he  reply'd)  a  thoufand  tombs  arife. 
Yon*  furnace  rings  with  royzJ  Frederic's  cries, 

St.  xviii.  /.  2.]  The  fecond  Emperor  of  that  name,  grandfon  to 
Barbarossa,  and  to  William  the  Good,  King  of  Sicily,  by 
Constant! A  his  daughter,  who,  though  a  profefled  Nun,  was 
obliged  to  man-)'  Henry  the  Sixth,  his  fon.  By  this  means 
Frederic  united  in  his  own  perfon  the  claims  of  the  Houfe  of 
Suabia  to  the  Empire,  and  of  the  Houfe  of  Tancred  to  Naples 
end  Sicily.  Thefe  claims,  as  they  would  have  clafhed  with  the 
mterelU  of  the  Church,  alarmed  the  Pope  (Honorius  the  Third,) 
particularly  when  he  found  that  Frederic  had  taken  pofTcflion  of 
the  Sicilies.  He  fii-ft  kindled  a  diipute  between  Frederic  and 
his  Clerg>  ;  then,  after  long  and  vexatious  difputes,  he  confented 
to  a  fceming  veconciliation,  and  perfuaded  the  Em.peror  to  under- 
take a  Crufade  againft  the  Sultan  of  Egypt.  When  he  was  in  the 
war,  the  Pope  took  care  to  betray  his  counfels  to  the  Sultan,  and 
pointed  out  the  beft  method  of  fubduing  him.  The  Sultan,  to 
embroil  the  ChrUlian  potentates,  difcovered  the  Papal  correfpond- 

cnce 


1 


His  captive  prelates  fill  the  difnial  choir* 
Enquire  no  more  !'*  he  cry'd,  and  plung'd  amain, 
With  headlong  hafle,  among  the  burning  train, 

And  eager  feem'd  to  feek  his  bed  of  fire. 
XIX. 
My  Guide  I  fbllow'd  on  with  heavy  heart ; 
The  gentle  Poet  faw  my  inward  finart, 

And  afk'd  the  caufe.     The  myftic  threat  I  told* 
"  Bid  Mem'ry  ftill  the  fatal  words  retain, 
(He  cry*d)  and  mark  the  wonders  of  the  plain ; 

Thy  guardian  Saint  will  foon  thy  fate  unfold  !'* 

XX. 

Onward  our  feet  purfu'd  the  left-hand  way. 
Behind  the  burnings  cafl  a  difmal  ray ; 

And,  op'ning  in  the  front,  a  gloomy  vale 
Breath*d  a  fepulchral  fcent ;  where,  fteaming  round, 
Dark,  noifome  vapours  hide  the  fatal  ground. 

And  o'er  the  deep  in  lazy  volumes  fail. 


cnce  to  Frederic,  who  immediately  made  peace  with  him,  and 
returned  to  Europe  to  punifh  the  Pope.  On  his  arrival  in  Italy, 
he  took  poffeffion  of  Apulia  and  Sicily  ;  and,  to  afFiont  the 
Pope,  fent  for  a  colony  of  Saracens,  whom  he  fettled  at  Nocera  in 
Apulia.  In  confequence  of  this  he  was  engaged  in  a  long  and 
cruel  war  with  the  Pope  ;  and,  ere  it  was  finifhed,  died  in  Apulia, 
by  the  hands  (as  is  fuppofed)  of  his  natural  fon  Manfred,  or 
Mainfroi,  who  is  faid  to  have  ftifled  him  with  a  wet  cloth.  He 
died  excommunicated  ;  but  the  crime  that  feems  to  h;ive  given  him  a 
feat  here  was  a  book,  faid  by  fome  to  be  written  by  him,  by  others 
attributed  to  his  confidential  Minifter,  Peter  de  Vineis,  the  fub- 
ftance  of  which  was.  The  Three  Impoftors,  viz.  Moses,  Maho- 
met, and  J.  C     See  C.  xiii.  for  the  ftory  of  Peter  de  Vineis. 

END   OF    THE    TENTH    CANTO. 

Na 


[    i8i    1 


CANTO  THE  ELEVENTH. 


ARGUMENT. 
The  Poet  arriving  at  the  bounds  of  the  Circle  of  Herefy,  finds  the 
Tomb  of  Anaftafius.  Vii^l  then  gives  a  general  ntap  or  delineation 
of  their  intended  journey.  From  him  Dante  learns  that  the  next 
region  is  inhabited  by  tyrants,  oppreffors,  and  others  of  that 
clafs,  whom  he  accurately  diftinguifixes  into  their  feveral  fpeeies. 
In  giving  a  general  view  of  the  other  criminals,  he  affignsa  reafon 
why  Usury  is  punifhcd  with  other  crimes  againft  Nature. 


IN  OW,  bending  o'er  the  high  embattled  fteep. 
We  find  the  pois'nous  vapours  of  the  deep. 

Intolerably  ftrong,  invade  our  fmell. 
FuU-charg'd  wiA  peftilence  the  fog  arofe : 
Fall  we  retreated  from  the  fcenc  of  woes. 

Where  a  tall  fabric  crown'd  the  verge  of  Hell. 

n. 

Thofe  words  engrav'd,  the  haplefs  inmate  told, 
"  The  Pupil  of  Photinus  here  behold, 

Whofe 

St.  ii.  /.  2.]     Photinus  was  a  Greek  heretic,  who  held,  agaioft 
the  Omousians,  that  the  Son  was  not  equal  to  the  Father,  and 

N  3  that 


[!: 


iS^^ 


Whofe  tainted  faith  the  triple  crown  difgracM !' 
"  Oh  !  llowly,  flowly  pace  the  noifome  vale, 
(l^xclaim'd  the  Mantuan)  left  your  fcnfes  fail, 

Too  weak  lo  bear  the  fufFocating  blaft  !" 

III. 
*'  Say,  fliall  we  fruitlefs  pafs  the  precious  time, 
While  darknefs  overhangs  the  difmal  clime  ?'* 

I  afk'd,  and  thus  the  friendly  Spirit  faid  : 
**  Attend !  while  I  prepare  thee  for  a  fight 
Yet  hid  within  the  fullen  womb  of  night  5 

Where  yon'  fufpended  cliffs  the  valley  Ihade, 

IV. 

**  Thro'  three  dcfcents  of  pain  our  journey  leads. 
Each  holds  a  tribe  condemned  for  lawlefs  deeds  ; 


T 
that  the  Holy  Ghost  did  not  proceed  from  both.  His  pupil  was 
(according  to  Dante)  Pope  Anaftafius  the  Fourth  ;  though  Baro-  ° 
nius  and  Bellarmine  both  deny  it.  (See  Annrf.  Eccl.  anno  497, 
and  Bellar.de  Roni.  Pont.  cap.  lo.)  One  ^bo^  effedt  followed  at 
leaft  from  thcfe  difputesof  the  rival  partic^j  each  took  due  care 
that  the  facred  text  (hould  not  be  corrupted  by  their  antagonifts, 
and  hence  the  fcriptural  code  \vas'  preferved  pure  ;  which,  had  the 
Church  always  been  at  peace,  would  have  been  liable  to  great  cor- 
ruption, where  none  would  have  had  an  interefl  to  deteft  the  fraud. 
Nor,  fuppofing  it  had  not  been  corrupted,  could  its  purity  have 
been  fo  eafily  proved  to  unbelievers  as  it  can  now,  if  the  Church 
had  not  been  divided  into  parties,  who  carefully  watched  each  , 
other.  When  it  is  remembered,  that  thofe  difputes  began  in  th^ 
firft  age  of  the  Church,  it  will  gafily  be  perceived  what  influence 
rhey  had  in  preferving  the  fcriptures  undepraved. 

Lean 


[     183    ] 

'       Learn  thou  their  crimes !  a  fight  will  then  fuffice ; 
There  Malice,  deadly  fiend,  abhorr*d  by  God, 
With  her  twin-race  of  Violence  and  Fraud, 
Beneath  the  penal  fcourge  for  ever  lies. 

V. 

"  Above  the  Sons  of  Violence  refide, 
The  bands  of  Fraud  below  together  hide  ; 

(Vile  Fraud !  the  heav*n-bom  foul's  peculiar  blot !) 
For  this,  in  fiercer  pains,  the  traitors  keep 
Their  horrid  vigils  far  in  yonder  deep  ; 

Hated  of  H^av'n,  and  fill  the  lowefl  lot. 

**  But  the  Blafphemer,  who  his  God  defy*d. 
With  him  who  flung  the  load  of  life  afide  ; 
1      And  he  whofe  arm  againft  his  neighbour  rofe. 
The  nearer  frontiers  fill ;  a  triple  fpace  j 
Ruffians  and  Spendthrifts  hold  the  foremoft  place. 
With  the  proud  Atheift,  doom'd  to  kindred  woes. 

VII. 
"  The  rear  contains  the  foul  blafpheming  band. 
Who  rais'd  againft  their  God  the  impious  hand, 

St.  iv.  /.  5.]  The  Poet  here  gives,  ift.  The  general  fiiyifion  of 
the  remaining  region  into  the  two  grand  departments  of  Violence 
and  Fraud  (St.  v.).  Then  he  defcends  to  a  particular  enume- 
ration of  each  clafs  :  In  the  department  of  Violence  he  mentions 
robbers,  fuicides,  ufurpers,  atheifts,  and  blafphemers,  with  thofe 
who  have  been  guilty  of  unnatural  praftices  (St.  7—9.).  The 
various  fpecies  of  fraud  are  next  given  in  detail  (St.  9 — 11.). 

N  4  Arraigned 


[      .84     ] 

Arralgn'd  his  goodnefs,  and  his  wrath  defy'd* 
Gomorrah  there,  and  foul  Caorsa's  race. 
In  mingled  bands  the  paths  of  horror  trace. 

With  thofe  whofe  callous  hearts  the  truth  deny'd. 

VIII. 
"  Fraud  fkulks  below  with  all  her  various  brood, 
There  darkhng  dwell  the  foes  of  public  good. 

The  pilf'rer,  and  the  cheat,  his  dark  ally: 
With  thofe,  whofe  felon  hand  their  truft  betray'd, 
Hypocrify  in  faintly  garb  array'd. 

Corruption  foul,  and  frontlefs  Perjur)\ 

IX. 
**  The  central  gulph,  replete  with  fiercer  pains. 
The  faithlefs  friend,  and  all  his  tribe  contains  : 

O'er  them  the  Father  of  the  Fiends  prefides. 
Their  common  race  with  all  its  ties  forgot. 
In  mutual  hate  they  mourn  their  hideous  lot. 

Where  the  firll  demon  rules  the  frozen  tides." 

X. 

"  Diflinft  and  clear,"  I  cry*d,  "  thy  words  fublime 
Sketch  the  fad  regions  of  the  horrid  clime. 

But  fay,  why  fentenc'd  to  a  milder  hell. 
Where  round  the  fortrefs  floats  the  troubled  wave, 
Envy  and  Strife  their  fifter-legions  lave  ; 

Deferve  they  not  in  fiercer  pains  to  dwell  ? 

XI. 
**  Say,  why  the  votaries  of  lawlefs  love 
Ride  the  mad  tumult  of  the  winds  above  j 

While,] 


C     '85    3 

TVhlle,  like  the  conflid  of  the  noify  bar, 
Still  battling  with  their  tongues,  the  IMifers  chide  ? 
Why  guiltlefs  are  they  doom'd  the  fcourge  to  bide  ? 

Or,  guilty,  why  fo  light  a  fentence  fhare  ?** 

XII. 

*'  "Who  made  thee  judge?"  incensM,  the  Spirit  cry'd, 
"  Was  then  my  former  lore  in  vain  apply'd, 

Which  taught  the  jufl  degrees  of  heav'nly  ire  ? 
The  fenfual  feel  a  lighter  load  of  woe. 
But  Fraud  and  Malice  feek  the  gulph  below. 

Together  doomed  to  everlafting  fire.    ■ 

St.  xi.  /.  4.]  The  different  degrees  of  punifhment  allotted  to 
the  Mifer  and  Ufurer,  feem  founded  on  the  principle  that  a  man  may- 
be a  Mifer  without  any  flagrant  injuftice  or  offence  againfl  Society 
teing  laid  to  his  charge  :  But  an  Ufurer  is  a  greater  peft  to  Society, 
as  his  bufmefs   confifls  in  taking  advantage  of  the   diftreffes  of 

others- In  the  time  of  Dante,  indeed,  larger  interefl  for  money 

was  more  necefTary  than  now,  as  the  lenders  ran  a  greater  rifk  j  but 
this  only  left  room  for  greater  extortion. 

It  feems  confonant  to  our  general  notions  of  equity,  tliat  Fraud 
in  the  other  world  fhould  be  puniflied  more  feverely  than  Violence, 
though  in  this  flate  of  things  it  would  not  always  be  convenient, 
for  Violence  flrikes  more  immediately  at  Society  than  Fraud ;  but  in 
the  eye  of  Rcafon,  Fraud,  and  the  crimes  to  which  it  gives  birth, 
feem  of  a  much  more  atrocious  hue  than  the  worll  effefts  cither  of 
Love,  Ambition,  or  Avarice.  The  latter  proceeds  merely  from  the 
indulgence  of  their  refpeftive  paflions  ;  the  former,  from  a  corrup- 
tlon  of  Reafon  itfelf,  hence  called  in  the  text 

The  Heav'n-born  foul's  peculiar  blot !" 

The  crimes  of  Violence  moflly  proceed  from  temptation,  the 
crimes  of  Fraud  from  deliberation. — Hence  fraud,  perfidy,  and  in- 
gratitude, thofe  vices  of  a  clear  head  and  cool  blood,  feem  juflly 
doo  ned  to  a  lower  and  more  fevcrc  lot.     Vide  Cic.  OfTic.  Lib.  i. 


xm. 

"  The  fons  of  lawlefs  love  and  hafty  rage 
Hence  feel  the  pitying  hand  their  pangs  afluage. 

Weigh  thou  their  merits,  and  thy  doubts  forego  !- 
The  deeply-danin*d  within  the  fortrefs  dwell. 
Without,  far  ftation'd  to  the  bounds  of  Hell, 

In  lighter  fquadrons  range  the  fons  of  woe." 

XIV. 

'*  Can  I  repent  my  doubts !  illumin'd  Bard, 
When  thus  thy  heav'nly  words  my  doubts  reward  ? 

Oh !  let  me  yet  thy  kind  attention  claim  ; 
Caorsa's  wealthy  crew  you  nam'd  before ! 
Could  Ufury  fend  them  to  the  burning  fhore 

With  Sodom's  fons  to  feed  the  penal  flame  ?*' 

XV. 

"  Search  thy  philofophy,"  the  Poet  cry*d ; 

*'  Dame  Nature  there,  the  pure,  primaeval  guide 

\Vhence  patient  Art  her  operations  form ; 
Still  from  fome  vital  principle  derives 
The  various  line  of  propagated  lives, 

And  with  prolific  heat  her  nations  warm, 

XVI. 

•'  But  from  her  hallowM  path  the  Mifer  flrays. 
Who  lets  pale  Av'rice  warp  his  fordid  ways, 

Iiivet'rate  foe  to  Nature's  funple  lore. 
Beneath  his  influence  grows  the  barren  gold. 
He  fpeaks,  and  lo  !  the  parent  fums  unfold 

In  monflrous  births,  a  mifbegotten  flore. 


XVII. 

But  now  the  fign,  oppos*d  to  Aries,  fhrouds 
Her  flaming  head  among  the  weltern  clouds. 

And  in  the  rifmg  fcale  afcends  the  day : 
While,  with  inverted  pole,  the  northern  car 
Is  feen  fufpended  o'er  the  boreal  ftar ; 

Hafle,  hafte  !  the  moments  chide  our  long  delay." 

5/.  xvii. /.  5.]     i.  e.  Above  or  on  the  South  fide  of  the  North 
Pole,  when  io  ibme  feafons  of  the  year  it  appears  before  the  break  of 


END  OF  THE  ELEVENTH  CANTO. 


I  189  ] 


CANTO   THE   TWELFTH. 


ARGUMENT. 
The  Poets,  with  difHculty,  make  their  way  through  a  craggy  and 
dangerous  pafs,  between  the  Regions  of  Heresy  and  Oppres- 
sion.— In  the  latter  Diviiion,  they  find,  under  a  Guard  of  Cen- 
taurs, the  Souls  of  Tyrants,  Oppreffors,  Conquerors,  and  all 
who  were  guilty  of  dehberat€  and  open  Violence  againft  Society 
or  Individuals.  After  taking  a  view  of  then-  Punifhment,  by  the 
affiftance  of  a  Centaur,  they  reach  the  Forest  of  Suicide. 


1  HE  flielving  path  our  cautious  fteps  purfue  j 
When,  lo!  another  gulph  appears  in  view; 

Th*  aftonifh'd  eye  ftarts  back,  our  feet  recoil. 
Not  with  fuch  fearful  view  the  Trentian  fteep 
Looks  dizzy  down  upon  the  circling  deep 

Where  flow  invafion  mines  the  mould'ring  foil. 

11. 

"Hiere  oft  the  thundering  ruin  fmites  the  plain  : 
The  flood  recoils,  and  leads  her  humid  train 

St.  i.  /.  4.]  The  Hill  of  Mokte  Barco,  between  Trevig^ 
and  Trento,  having  been  fhaken  by  an  earthquake,  or  under- 
mined by  the  river  Adice,  parted  in  the  middle,  and  falling 
|u:rofs  the  river,  turned  it  for  a  time  from  its  ufual  channel. 

Far, 


[     I90    J 

Far,  far  aflope !  the  riv'n  rock  disjoins. 
So  feem*d  th*  eternal  breach  ;  the  hideous  guard 
Was  He,  whofe  form  the  horrid  mixture  marr'd. 

By  Creta  mourn*d  through  all  her  fair  confines. 

m. 

He  heard  our  footfteps  found  along  the  fhore. 
Then  rous'd  to  vengeance,  fent  liis  voice  before. 

And  tow'rd  the  Poet  bent  his  furious  way. 
All  horrible  with  felf-inflicled  wounds. 
"  Avaunt,"  the  Poet  cry'd,  "  thofe  folemn  bounds 

No  Greek  invades  with  purpofe  to  betray ! 

IV. 

"  No  ftem  affairm,  by  a  fifter  led, 
Comes  to  demand  thy  mifcreated  head : 

A  blamelefs  mortal  fent  to  yonder  deep 
A  paflage  craves." — ^As  with  indignant  bound 
The  bclloviing  bull  refents  the  mortal  wound. 

So  danc'd  the  grizzly  Ihape  around  the  fleep. 

St.  ii-  /.  5.3  The  famous  Minotaur  of  Crete,  a  monfler,  cek' 
brated  by  the  Poets,  fuppofed  to  be  half  formed  like  a  man,  and 
half  like  a  bull.  The  Greek  mentioned  here  is  Theseus,  Son 
to  the  King  of  Athens,  who  refcued  his  country'  from  the  igno- 
minious tribute  of  feven  noble  youths,  who  were  exaAed  by  the 
Cretan  Monarch  yearly,  for  tlie  murder  of  his  Son  by  theyiihe- 
nians,  and  given  to  be  flaughtcred  by  the  Minotaur.  Ariadne^ 
the  Cretan  princefs,  conceiving  a  paiDon  for  Theseus,  is  faid  tct 
have  given  him  a  clue,  which  conducted  him  through  the  mazes  of 
the  labyrinth,  where  the  Minotaur  was  lodged.  By  this,  after 
taving  killed  the  monfter,  he  was  conduced  fafe  back.  This  fa- 
bulous being  has  not  the  moft  happy  effefl  in  making  his  appearance 
among  real  hillorical  perfonages,  though  he  appears  in  other  re- 
fpefts  a  proper  enough  attendant  on  the  race  of  Violence  and 
Wounds 


[    t9i     ] 

V. 

^'^  Retire !  and  give  his  rage  an  ample  path ; 
'Tis  ralhnefs  thus  to  brave  eternal  wrath  1** 

ExclaimM  the  Bard ;  and  by  another  way 
O'erhanging  rocks  fublime,  and  ridges  drear, 
Whofe  tott'ring  bafes  fill'd  my  foul  with  fear. 

The  Mantuan  led  me,  flruck  with  pale  difmay. 

VI. 

**  See  !  yon'  tall  Theatre  in  ruin  roll'd ! 

My  fteps,'*  he  cry*d,  "  the  barrier  pafs'd  of  old. 

While  yet  in  tow'ring  (late  the  circle  flood : 
But,  ere  from  earth  the  mighty  fpoiler  came, 
DeftrudBon  levell'd  round  the  ftately  frame. 

And  op'd  a  paflage  o'er  the  Stygian  flood, 

vn. 

*'  All  nature  feem'd  to  own  the  mighty  Man  ; 
A  trembling  fympathy  thro'  Hades  ran  ; 

And  Chaos  thought  her  reign  returning  new : 
Loud  earthquakes  min'd  the  wide  infernal  field. 
Far,  far  below  her  deep  foundations  reel'd, 

And  wide  around,  a  length  of  ruin  drew. 

vm. 

"  Here  take  thy  Hand ;  and  view  the  difmal  dell ! 
I JJB    What  floods  of  gore  in  boiling  torrents  fwell, 
^         Whofe  flagrant  wave  the  fons  of  violence  hide ! 

Thine  are  the  fpells,  infatiate  lufl  of  pow'r ! 

That  charm  the  terrors  of  the  tort'ring  hour. 

And  down  the  fleep  your  Haves  triumphant  guide.' 


[      192      ] 

IX. 

*i'hc  bloody  billows  fwept  a  fpacious  round, 
While,  mufl'ring  fierce  upon  the  rifing  ground 

Succin£l  in  arms,  a  band  of  bowmen  flood : 
Three  quiverM  chiefs  forfook  the  ghollly  band. 
And  flcrnly  trac'd  us  on  the  fanguine  ftrand, 

While  thus  the  firfl  cxclaim'd  in  ireful  mood: 

X. 

**  Avaunt !  or  quick  the  fatal  arrow  flies  ; 

How  dare  you  thus  indulge  your  curious  eyes  ? — 

— Or  tell,  what  plagues  await  your  fentenc'd  fouls  ?** 
"  Ceafe  !  moody  fon  of  wrath,"  the  Bard  reply  *d, 
"  Dearly  you  earned  your  over-weening  pride  ! 

Know,  fate  alone  our  downward  courfe  controls.** 

XI. 

"  Go !  bid  your  Chief  attend  ;"  he  tum'd,  and  faid, 
"  This  for  Alcides*  fpoufe  the  ranfom  paid 

In  blood.     The  fecond  Ihap'd  the  Pelian  Lance, 
Stem  Pholus  joins,  to  lead  the  endlefs  chace. 
Still  fhow'r  their  fhafts  on  yon'  devoted  race. 

When  from  their  fentenc'd  lots,  the  flaves  advance." 

St.  xi.  /.  3.3  It  will  be  neceflary  to  inform  the  reader  who  is 
not  verfed  in  Mythological  Hillory,  that  this  was  the  Spirit  of 
Neflus,  the  Centaur  defcribed  by  the  Poets  as  half  man,  half  horfe. 
Neffus  was  employed  by  Hercules  to  carry  his  wife  over  the  river 
Evenus,  and  on  offering  her  violence  on  the  further  (hore,  was  fliot 
with  a  poifoned  arrow  by  Hercules.  The  Centaur,  in  his  laft  mo- 
ments, prefented  his  upper  garments  to  the  lady,  tin£lured  with  his 
envenomed  blood ;  and  requefted  her  to  preferve  it  as  a  fure  philtre 
to  fecure  or  regain  her  hulband's  affections.     She,  in  a  fit  of  jea- 

loufy. 


C  m  1 

XII. 
tie  fpoke,  with  cautious  fteps  I  nearer  drew, 
Chiron  beheld,  and  bent  his  fatal  yew ; 

Exclaiming,  "  Hence,  ye  troublers  of  the  dead  I 
"What  boldnefs  leads  your  earthly  feet  profane 
*ro  fhake  with  mortal  weight  the  trembling  plain ; 

Hence !  ere  this  fhaft  transfix  your  fentenc'd  head." 

XIII. 
The  Bafd  replyM,  **  from  no  finifter  view 
His  earthly  feet  the  darkfome  way  purfuej 

'Twas  fate  compell'd  him,  no  profane  delight ! 
An  angel-voice  the  dire  injunction  gave. 
To  wander  here,  unconfcious  of  a  grave, 

Under  my  guidance  thro*  the  realms  of  night. 

XIV. 
"  But,  by  that  pow*r  that  'tends  me  down  the  fteep, 
Send,  I  adjure  thee !  fend  thro*  yonder  deep 

Some  faithful  hand  to  guide  his  lonely  way, 
And  waft  the  mortal  o'er  the  crimfon  flood.** 
*— Sufpenfe  awhile  the  troubled  vifion  flood. 

Then  gave  the  fign  j  his  ready  mates  obey. 

XV. 
Nessus  conducts  us  to  the  crimfon  flood, 
Where  feeth*d  by  ceafelefs  fires,  the  Men  of  Blood 

loufy,  fent  it  to  her  hufband,  who  putting  it  on,  as  he  was  fa- 
crificing,  was  feized  with  intolerable  pain,  and  expired  in  a  fit  of 
raging  madnefs ;  in  which  he  killed  the  meflenger  who  had 
brought  the  fatal  prefent.  See  the  Franchinise  of  Sophocles^  and 
Ovid  Met.  B.  ix. — He  that  Ihaped  the  Pelian  fpear  was  Ghiron,  the 
famous  tutor  of  Achilles* 

Vol.  I.  O  Stand 


[     194     3 

Stand  in  long  files. — Anon,  a  furious  wave, 
Sublim*d  to  tenfold  rage  by  fires  unfeen, 
Comes,  with  a  thund'ring  tide  their  ranks  between. 

And  loud  laments  along  the  borders  rave. 

XVI. 

*'  Where  yon'  pale  heads  above  the  flood  afcend, 
The  Tyrant  learns  to  weep,"  exclaim'd  the  Fiend, 

"  And  feels  the  everlafling  weight  of  blood.'* 
There  Dionysius,  link*d  with  Pher^'s  Lord, 
Confpicuous  frown  among  the  Band  abhorr*d. 

And  o'er  their  maffacres  for  ever  brood. 

xvn. 

There  ftern  Obizo,  by  his  fon  betray'd. 
With  EzzELiNo  fate,  a  darker  fhade  j 

Sf.  xvi.  /.  4- — Dionysius.]  Tyrant  of  Syracufe,  who,  bein^ 
€xpelled  by  the  citizens,  became  a  fchoolmafter  in  Corinth. 

Pher;e. — Alexander  of  Pherae,  one  of  the  moll  inhuman 
tyrants  of  his  time  ;  yet  he,  though  familiarized  to  blood,  is  faid  to 
have  fhed  tears  at  the  reprcfentation  of  a  play  of  Euripides.  He  had 
made  a  lift  of  perfons  whom  he  meant  to  put  to  death ;  and 
among  the  reft,  his  wife's  two  brothers.  This  was  found  by  hi» 
wife,  and  (hewn  to  them.  They  threatened  her  with  inftant  death 
if  (he  did  not  confent  with  them,  and  aflift  in  difpatching  the  ty- 
rant. She  was  obliged  to  confent,  and  next  night  removed  his 
fword  from  his  bed-head,  on  which  the  affaffins  entered  the  room, 
and  difpatched  him.  Plutarch, 

Si.  xvii.  /.•  r. — Obizo.]  Marquis  of  Ferrara,  of  the  -jble  fa- 
mily of  the  Efte,  who,  by  every  fpecies  of  tyranny  and  oppreflion, 
had  accumulated  a  vaft  fortune,  and  was  at  laft  fmothered  with  a 
pillow  by  his  own  fon,  for  his  riches. 

St.xvn.  I.  2. — EzzELiNO.]  Lord  of  the  Trivigiana,  in  Piedmont. 
He,  imdcr  pretence  of  aiding  the  party  of  FaEDERic  the  Second,  de- 

ftroyed 


C    195    3 

Still  as  we  pafs'd,  the  Centaur  led  the  way. 
The  Mantuan  feem*d  his  office  to  refign : 
Anxious  I  turn'd  me  to  the  Bard  divine, 

*'  Proceed/*  he  cry'd,  "  thy  recent  guide  obey,' 

XVIII. 

Another  Legion  there  our  eyes  behold, 

Full  on  their  backs,  the  bloody  billows  rollM : 

There,  fkulking  low,  was  feen  a  Shade  forlornj 
Who  dy*d  with  Britifli  blood  the  hallow'd  floor ; 
Old  Father  Thames  along  his  willowy  fhore 

Still  feems  the  young  Plantagenet  to  mourn. 


ftroyed  all  the  country  from  Bologna  to  Padua,  with  fire  and  fword, 
and  reduced  it  under  his  dominion. — Having  fupprefled  a  rebellion 
in  Padua,  he  took  twelve  thoufand  prifoners,  and  fhut  them  up  in 
a  vaft  theatre  of  wood,  under  the  guard  of  his  viftorious  army. — 
This  he  ordered  to  be  fet  on  fire ;  but  before  the  flame  was  kindled, 
he  aflced  his  Chancellor,  (whom  he  fufpefted  of  fome  fhare  in  the  re- 
bellion,) "  If  he  knew  thofe  criminals  ?" — He  anfwered  in  the  affirm- 
ative, and  fhewed  a  voluminous  regifter,  where  all  their  names  and 
mifdemeanours  were  written  at  large. — "  Then,"  fays  Ezzelino, 
*'  as  I  have  received  many  favours  from  his  Infernal  Majefly,  I  in- 
tend to  make  him  a  prefent  of  all  thefc  Souls  ;  and  left  they  fhould 
appear  in  a  tumultuary  body  before  the  monarch,  you,  with  your 
regifter,  ftiall  attend,  to  furnifh  him  with  an  accurate  lift  of  their 
names  and  ftations."  He  accordingly  ordered  his  guards  to  throw 
him  over  the  ramparts,  and  commanded  the  pile  to  be  fet  on  fire.— 
He  was  at  laft  defeated  by  Pallavicini  on  the  banks  of  the  Addua, 
in  the  year  1260,  and  chofe  to  die  of  his  wounds,  rather  than  fuf- 

fer  any  afliftance. Villani  Hift.  Florentin. 

St.  xviii.  /.  3.]  Guy  of  Montfort,  fon  to  the  famous  Simon  de 
Montfort,  Earl  of  Leicefter,  who,  heading  the  Barons  againft 
Henry  the  Third  of  England,  was  defeated  by  Prince  Edward,  and 

O  a  loft 


[     '96    3 

XIX. 
Then,  to  the  middle  bathM  in  torrent  fire. 
Banking  the  flood,  appeared  a  ghaftly  choir, 

And  lengthening  down  the  vale,  fuccefTive  banda 
In  juft  gradation  rofe,  afcending  ftill, 
'Till,  quiv'ring  o*cr  their  feet,  the  fcanty  rill 

With  fhallow  crimfon  flufliM  the  pebbly  ftrand. 

XX. 

'*  Lo !  round  yon'  point  the  boiling  depths  increafe,* 
Th*  attendant  cry'd,  "  *till  yonder  floods  embrace 

With  overwhelming  furge  the  tyrant  crew; 
Emerging  thence  their  Legions  feek  the  light ; 
Then,  gradual  fmk,  amid  the  gloom  of  night, 

'Till  yon*  red  deluge  folds  them  from  the  view. 

XXI. 
•*  Pyrrhus  and  Tarquin  there  for  ever  wail. 
Where  yonder  waves  the  giant-bulk  aflfail 


joft  his  life  in  the  battle  of  Evefhara.  His  fon,  to  revenge  hi» 
death,  aflaflinated  young  Henry,  nephew  to  the  King,  and  fon  to 
Richard,  King  of  the  Romans,  in  the  great  church  of  Viterbo— 
Villani  Landino,  Villutello. 

Si.  xxi.  /.  I. — PvRRHUs.3    King  of  Epirus. See  his  Life  \a 

Plutarch. 

Tarquin.]— The  fon  of  Tarquin  the  Proud,  the  laft 
King  of  Rome.  It  was  he  who  dirtionoured  Lucretia ;  which, 
roufed  the  people  of  Rome  to  vengeance,  and  caufed  the  expulfioa 
o(  his  father. — In  the  laft  attempt  made  by  Tarquin  to  recover  hi* 
diadem,  Sextus  the  tyrant,  and  Brutus,  the  firil  Conful,  fell  by 
mutual  wounds.— —Li vy,  lib.  i. 

2  Of 


C     ^^97    3 

Of  Attila,  the  fcourge  of  human  kind ! 
The  Reiners  too,  an  execrable  pair  ! 
Their  moonlight  murders  weep,  and  nightly  war. 

In  name,  and  fame,  and  endlefs  doom  combinM.** 

St.  xxi.  /.  3. — Attila.]  King  of  the  Huns,  called  by  contem- 
porary hiftorians   "  the  fcourge  of  God,"  for  his  terrible  devafta- 

tions  in  the  weft. For  a  very  animated  and  curious  account  of 

this  extraordinary  people,  fee  Gibbon's  DecUne  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire, vol.  V.  oAavo  edit. 

St.  xxi.  /.  4. — The  Reiners.]  Two  noblemen  of  the  fame  name» 
but  different  famihes,  took  the  opportunity  of  the  difputes  in  Flo- 
rence to  indulge  their  innate  cruelty. 

The  phalanx  of  tyrants  and  homicides  immerfed  at  different 
depths  in  a  deluge  of  blood,  and  obliged  to  keep  their  ranks,  or 
expofe  themfelves  to  the  arrows  of  the  Centaurs,  gives  a  lively  idea 
of  the  bloody  engagement  between  the  Romans  and  Parthians  on 
the  plains  of  Canhas,  where  the  Roman  Legions  were  nearly  in  the 
fame  fituation  with  the  criminals  defcribed  here. 

To  thofe  readers  who  are  fond  of  allegorizing  the  punirtiments 
of  Dante,  the  deluge  of  boiling  blood  in  which  the  fouls  of  tyrants 
and  aflafBns  are  immerfed,  gives  a  very  lively  idea  of  the  horrors  of 
an  unquiet  confcience  ;  a  ftate  of  mind  defcribed  in  a  few  words 
by  Mr.  Burke,  but  with  more  fublimity  than  by  any  Poet  I  have 
ever  met  with  :  "  a  ftate  (he  fays)  where  one  terrific  image  grows 
to  fuch  a  fize,  that  it  breaks  down  all  the  partitions  of  the  mind." 
Treatife  on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful,— 1  quote  from  memory,  not 
having  the  book  near  me. 


END   OF   THE    TWELFTH    CANTO, 


03 


C     »99    ] 


CANTO  THE    THIRTEENTH. 


*V      ARGUMENT. 

1 

Dante  arrives  at  tlie  Foreft  of  Suicide,  where  he  finds  the  Spirit 
of  Pietro  de  Vignes,  Chancellor  and  Prime  Minifter  to  the  Em-i 
peror  Frederick  the  Second  ;  from  whom  he  learns  the  nature  of' 
his  punifhment.  In  the  fame  region,  though  differently  pu- 
nifhed,  he  finds  the  Spirits  of  thofe  who  had  been  led  to  fuicide 
by  diflipation.  Among  thefe  he  meets  two  of  his  contempora- 
ries, Lano  di  Sanefi  and  Jiacapo  Padouano. 


JrllGH  wafted  o*er  the  flood,  the  Centaur  bore 
His  mortal  charge,  and  gain'd  the  further  fhore  ; 

Where  the  deep  horrors  of  a  pathlefs  wood 
O'er-hung  the  wave  with  dark  funereal  frown  ; 
Deep  tangled  Ihades  the  horrid  foil  embrown, 

And  deadly  venom  ev*ry  trunk  bedew'd. 

II. 

No  Ihade  fo  difmal  hides  Cornetto*s  fhore. 
As  where  C^ecina  hears  the  Tufcan  roar. 

Nor  fouler  fhapes  poflefs  the  haunted  glade  : 
Their  dire  aflfembhes  here  the  Harpies  hold, 
Whofe  voice  purfu'd  the  Trojan  fleet  of  old. 

And  hideous  fcenes  of  future  woe  difplay'd, 

04 


C      200      ] 
III. 

They  fleet  around  on  broad  portentous  wing, 
And  hov*ring  high  their  baleful  dirges  fing  ; 

Then  people  ev'ry  bough,  a  difmal  throng  : 
Down  to  the  breafl  they  feem  of  female  race, 
But  dufky  plumage  all  the  reft  deface, 

And  with  flrong  talons  to  the  boughs  they  clung, 

IV. 

"  See  (M^ro  cry*d)  the  Wood,  whofe  gloomy  bounds 
A  level  trad  of  burning  fand  furrounds  ; 

Beyond  the  limits  of  this  baleful  grove : 
And  now,  for  fcenes  beyond  the  reach  of  faith ! 
Scenes  yet  unequall'd  in  the  haunts  of  death ! 

Prepare  your  eyes,  as  thro*  the  vale  we  rove." 

V. 
Now  difmal  fhrieks  aflaiPd  my  ftartled  ear. 
Thro'  the  long  wood,  afcending  fhrill  and  clear  ; 

Nor  tort'ring  hand,  nor  fentenc'd  foul  was  feen.— * 
Inftant,  my  vain  furmife  the  Mantuan  faw — 
And — "  Let  thy  hardy  hand  (he  cry*d)  withdraw 

Thofe  envious  boughs,  the  walks  of  death  between!'* 

VI. 

My  ready  hands  the  hanging  branches  tore  ; 
And,  lo  !  my  hands  were  all  embru*d  in  gore ! 

When,  from  the  trunk,  an  hollow  difmal  found 
Exclaim'd,  "  Ah  !  why  my  bleeding  fibres  tear  ?— 
If  e*er  above  you  breath'd  the  vital  air. 

Why  thus  with  cruel  hand  your  brethren  wound  } 

Stf  vi.  /.  4.3     Imitated  from  Fir^iU  .£n.Ub.iiif 


C      20I       ] 

vn. 

Altho'  confin'd  in  this  accurfed  wood. 

We  boaft  a  common  race  and  kindred  blood  :— • 

But,  were  we  born  of  Lybia's  venom'd  race. 
Hard  were  the  deed  our  tortur'd  boughs  to  bend. 
And  from  the  trunk  our  bleeding  members  rend  ; 

Nor  would  a  pious  hand  our  plants  deface  !'* 

^  ■      VIII. 

He  fighM  ;  and  blood  for  tears  began  to«flow !— - 
As  when,  in  fummer  green,  th'  unfeafon'd  bough. 

Sullen  and  flow,  the  fputt'ring  flame  receives. 
At  many  a  vent  efcapes  the  ftruggling  fleam : 
Jiis  crackling  fibres  burft  at  each  extreme, 

And  fafl  th'  expiring  figh  reluftant  heaves. 

IX. 

My  Guide  replyM,  "  *Tis  needlefs  to  upbraid  : — 
Had  he  divin*d  thy  fate,  lamented  Shade  ! 

His  guiltlefs  hand  had  ne*er  thy  boughs  profan'd ; 
Or  had  he  thought  on  Folydorus'  doom. 
Like  thee,  confinM  within  a  living  tomb. 

Thy  blood  his  pious  hands  had  never  llain'd. 

X. 

**  But,  tell  thy  lineage  and  paternal  name ; 
And  if,  above,  thy  violated  fame 

Hath  fuflFerM  aught,  let  him  thy  fame  defend  !" 
Appeas'd,  the  Voice  rejoin'd,  "  Thofe  welcome  founds 
Soothe  for  a  while  the  mem'ry  of  my  wounds : 

Jf  then  your  bus*nefs  brook  delay,  attend  !— 

St.  ix.  /.  4.]     See  Firply  iEn.  lib.  iii. 


[      202      2 
XI. 

*'  Mine  were  the  avenues  to  Frederic* s>  foul ; 
The  Royal  Mind  I  held  in  foft  controul, 

And  at  my  wilh  his  bounty  ebb'd  and  flow'd : 
With  faithful  zeal  the  glorious  poft  I  kept. 
But  Envy  vsroke  while  I  fupinely  flept. 

And  min'd  the  bafis  of  my  fair  abode. 

xn. 

"  Within  the  Courtier's  breafl:  fhe  lurk'd  unfeen, 
RankHng  the  heart  beneath  the  fmiling  mien, 

'Till  the  black  poiibn  burfl  in  ruin  round. 
To  Cesar's  heart  the  venom'd  whifper  ftole  : — 
Soon  o'er  my  head  I  faw  Deftrudion  roll. 

And  rafhly  dealt  the  felf-infiicted  wound. 

St.  XI.  /.  2.]     This  fuicide  was  the  famous  Pictro  delle  Vigne, 
or  Petrus  de  Vinois,  confidential  niiniiler  and  phyficiaa  to  Frederic 
the  Second  (fee  Notes  on  Canto  x.) ;  he  was  a  Capuan  by  birth,  of 
the  loweft  parentage,  but  rofe  to  the  higheil  offices  under  the  Em- 
peror.    He  is  fuppofed  to  have  written  the  book  of  The  Three" 
Impoftors  (Mofes,  Mahomet,  and  J.  C.)  to  ingratiate  himftlf  with 
Frederic ;  but  it  was  the  fafhion  of  the  Guelf  writers  to  blacken 
the  characters  of  the  Ghibellines.     His  rife  w^as  attended  with  the 
envy  of  all  the  old  Patrician  Courtiers,  who,  by  fidlitious  letters 
from  Pope   Innocent  the  IVth,  promifmg  him  a  confiderable  re- 
ward if  he  would  poifon  his  fovereign,  occafioned  his  fall.     Fre-: 
deric,  equally  credulous  and  cruel,  caufed  him  to  be  blinded,  by 
holding  a  red-hot  bafon  to  his  eyes.     The  fallen  minifter  retired  to 
Pifa  ;  and  his  pride  being  hurt  by  the  negleft  of  the  Pifans,  or  not 
being  able  to  brook  his  difgrace,  he  refolved  to  put  an  end  to  his 
cxillence.     One  day,  being  led  out,  he  afked  his  guide  to  conduft 
him  to  Paul's  Church  ;  and,  when  he  found  himfelf  within  reach 
of  the  wall,  he  ran  his  head  violently  againft  it  and  fra(flured  his 
Ikull.     Others  fay,  that  he  flung  himfelf  out  of  a  window  into  the 
ftreet,  when  he  heard  the  Emperor's  retinue  was  paffing  by. 


C    203    ] 

XIII. 
*'  In  death  I  hop*d  to  fhun  the  deep  difgrace ; 
But  winged  Vengeance  knew  my  foul  to  trace. 

Yet,  by  thofe  bonds,  that  hold  me  to  the  foil, 
I  fwear,  that  ftill,  unconfcious  of  a  (lain. 
This  hand  upheld  the  glories  of  his  reign. 

Nor  fold  my  fame,  nor  Ihar'd  the  public  fpoil. 

XIV. 

*'  And  oh  !  if  yonder  world  experts  you  flill. 
Let  not  Detra£lion  on  my  name  difhil* 

Her  poisonous  dew,  but  chafe  the  Fiend  away  V* 
He  ceas'd,  and  feemM  to  wait  my  lad  reply. 
*'  Hafte,  hafte  !  (exclaimM  the  Bard)  the  minutes  fly. 

While  here  you  wafte  the  hours  in  fond  delay.'* 

XV. 

*'  A{k  thou,  (I  cry'd,)  whate'er  imports  to  know : — 
So  faft  my  rifing  tears  began  to  flow 

That  utt'rance  is  deny'd." — ^The  Bard  began : 
"  So  may  thy  fervent  pray'r  prevail  above. 
Say,  what  flrange  fpell,  in  this  Tartarean  gi'ove. 

In  ev*ry  trunk  infolds  a  fentenc'd  man  ? 

XVI. 
"  Does  no  kind  chance  the  prifonM  foul  redeem  ?" 
I  fpoke,  the  Ghoft  renewed  the  doleful  theme  : 

"  When  the  fierce  foul,  difdaining  longer  flay. 
Spontaneous  leaves  the  bounds  of  upper  air. 
Seven  times  the  depth  of  this  infernal  fphere 

He  fallsj  for  ever  in  thofe  bounds  to  fl:ay. 


C   204  j 

XVII. 

"  Wherever  flung,  he  cafts  a  random  root, 
Thence  up,  amain,  the  horrid  fibres  fhoot  ; 

And  foon  the  favage  plant  o'erfhades  the  foil : 
On  ev*ry  ftem  a  baleful  bird  defcends, 
And  with  infatiate  bill  our  foliage  rends  ; 

While  blood  and  mingled  tears  the  trunk  defile* 

XVIII. 
**  The  general  doom  fhall  bid  us  feek  our  duft ; 
But  not  to  clothe  us  in  the  hated  buft : 

That  odious  union  no  command  compels. 
At  ev*ry  trunk  within  the  woody  wafte, 
The  hanging  corfe  fhall  taint  the  coming  blafl:  i 

While  deep  within  the  wailing  fpirit  dwells.** 

XIX. 

It  ceas'd,  and  ftill  we  flood,  intent  to  hear  ;— 
When  thro*  the  gloomy  grove,  diftind;  and  clear^ 

We  heard  the  clamours  of  the  chace  afar. 
As  when,  to  vengeance  rous*d,  the  chafing  boar. 
Prepares  his  cruel  fangs  to  bathe  in  gore. 

So  feem*d  the  difcord  of  the  Sylvan  war. 

r 

XX. 

At  length  the  bloody  hunt  appear*d  in  view ; 
The  hounds  of  Hell  a  wretched  pair  purfue ! 

Naked  they  ran,  and,  all  befmear'd  with  gore, 
The  crackling  branches  broke  before  their  flight. 
"  Oh,  Death  !  (the  foremofl  cry'd,)  affert  thy  right ; 

Nor  let  us  flill  in  vain  thy  aid  implore  !** 


C   205  ] 

XXL 

•'  Had  you  thus  ply*d  your  feet  on  Toppo's  plain, 
(The  fecond  cryM)  thy  corpfe  among  the  flain 

Had  not  been  found  on  that  ill-omen'd  day." 
Faintly  he  fpoke,  and,  on  a  bough  rechn'd. 
Heard  the  loud  quefting  in  the  coming  wind. 

And,  fternly  patient,  feem*d  to  ftand  at  bay. 

xxn. 

Soon  ifluing  from  the  grove,  the  Brood  of  night 
Traverfe  the  tainted  ground  with  fell  delight, 

And  fnufF  with  eager  fcent  the  poifon*d  gale: 
Arrived,  the  falling  wretch  they  foon  furround. 
Fallen  at  once,  and  drag  him  to  the  ground  ; 

Then  bear  his  mangled  members  down  the  dale. 

xxm. 

The  plaintive  tree  his  fhatter'd  arms  upheld. 
From  ev*ry  bough  a  crimfon  current  well'd: 

While  Maro  led  me  to  the  fcene  of  blood, 
*'  Ah  1  Giaccomo,  why  my  branches  tear  ? 
Ought  I  the  vengeance  of  thy  crimes  to  bear  ?" 

Thus  wail'd  the  Spirit,  in  his  Ihrine  of  wood, 

St,  xxi.  /.  3.3  This  Spirit,  who  is  defcribed  fo  expeditious  in 
his  flight,  was  named  Lang,  a  native  of  Siena:  he  was  fent  with 
a.  detachment  of  his  countrymen  to  affift  the  Florentines  againft 
the  Aretines  ;  but  finding  the  fortune  of  the  day  turning  againft 
him,  and  reflefting  that  he  had  furvived  his  patrimony,  and  all  the 
enjoyments  he  had  any  relifh  for,  he  rufhed  into  the  thickeft  of  the 
battle,  and  was  killed.  The  other  Spirit,  companion  of  his  flight 
and  torment,  was  J'tacapo  Di  Santa  Andrea,  a  Paduan,  who  had 

fpent 


[      206      ] 

XXIV. 

"  Say  !  who  art  thou  that  ftam*fl  the  difmal  fhore 
(ExclaimM  the  Roman  Bard)  with  ftreaming  gore  ?" 

Sighing,  the  Voice  reply'd,  "  Whatever  Pow'r 
Leads  you  this  fcene  of  carnage  to  furvcy ; 
With  pious  hand  my  fhatter'd  members  lay. 

Where  late  you  faw  the  fiends  their  prey  devour. 

XXV. 

*'  You  know  thofe  walls  that  own'd  the  martial  God, 
Then  chang'd  the  terrors  of  his  iron  rod. 

Relenting,  for  the  Bapt'ift\  milder  fway : 
Their  change  the  furious  Pow*r  indignant  faw. 
And  bent  her  down  beneath  his  fterner  law. 

Wafting  their  ftrength  in  many  a  bloody  fray. 

XXVI. 

*'  Where  now  on  Arnoh  flood  his  ftatue  frowns, 
Whofe  demon  pow'r  the  abjeft  city  owns, 


fpent  his  fubftance  with  a  profufion  that  look'd  like  frenzy.  In 
order  to  make  a  bonfire  for  the  welcome  of  fome  friends,  he  ordered 
all  his  labourers'  cottagesj  com,  and  waggons,  to  be  confmned  in 
one  conflagration.  He  killed  himfelf  in  a  fit  of  defpair,  after  a  life 
of  diflipation. 

St.  XXV.  /.  3.3  The  Church  of  the  Baptift  at  Florence  was  for- 
merly a  Temple  of  Mars.  The  Poet  infinuates,  from  their  love  of 
war  and  difcord,  that  they  were  ftill  more  attached  to  the  ancient 
objeft  of  their  woHhip,  than  the  "  mild  fway  of  the  Baptift." 

(EIf« 


C   207   ] 

(Elfe  were  hei*  ruins  fpread  along  the  fhore ;) 
The  furies  faw  me  there  the  cord  extend. 
And  from  the  fatal  beam  my  weight  fufpend  ; 

IMine  own  ill-omen'd  roof  the  burthen  bore." 

Si,  xxvi.  /.  6.]  This  cataftrophe  was  fuch  a  common  refult  of  a 
life  of  diflipation  in  the  1 3th  century,  that,  fay  the  Commentators, 
it  is  hard  to  afccrtain  the  particular  perfon  meant  by  the  Poet  here, 
under  the  image  of  a  fhattered  tree. — A  life  of  extravagance,  clofed 
by  fuicide,  is  dehneated  with  great  juftnefs  of  defign,  and  ftrength 
of  colouring,  in  Cecilia,  or  Memoirs  of  an  Heirefs,  Vols.  I.  and  II 
See  alfo  Letters  on  Infidelity. 

The  hint  of  this  punifliment  (as of  many  others)  is  taken  from 
Virgil,  JEn.  vi.  435. 

. lucemquc  perofi 

Projec^re  animas. — Quam  vellent  aethere  in  alto, 
Nunc  et  pauperiem  et  duros  perferre  labores  ! 

Dante,  in  this  Canto,  gives  a  ftriking  inftance  of  poetical  art, 
in  combining  two  or  three  fcattered  images  in  Virgil  into  one 
fublime  and  terrible  pi6lure.  The  Metamorphofis  of  Polydorus, 
an  infipid  fidlion  where  it  Hands*,  the  punifliment  of  y^/«V(?  paffed 
(lightly  over  in  a  general  defcription  f,  and  the  cruelty  of  Mezen- 
iius,  in  binding  living  bodies  to  the  dead,  are  all  brought  together 
in  one  of  the  moft  ftriking  reprefentations  in  the  whole  Poem. — 
This  is  the  moft  noble  fpecies  of  imitation,  and  only  to  be  attempted 
by  that  fort  of  fuperior  genius,  which  can  give  fuch  refemblances 
the  air  of  an  original.  Thus  Virgil  has  treated  Homer,  and  Mil- 
ton, in  the  fame  manner,  has  availed  himfelf  of  the  fidlions  of 
Ovid  and  Claudian. 

As  to  the  propriety  of  this  punifhment,  it  feems  at  leaft  a  fort  of 
poetical  juftice  to  confine  the  Spirits  who  had  left  their  allotted 
ftations  without  leave,  to  other  bodies,  which  befides,  being  infinitely 
more  difagreeable,  they  could  not  fo  eafily  forfake.     Something 

*  iEn  iii.  6.       JEa  vi.43s.  \  ^n.  viii.485. 

like 


[     2o8     i 

fikc  it  at  Icaft  we  can  perceive  in  thi»  world.  Thofe  who  endeavour 
to  quit  tlieir  appointed  Nations  by  unwarrantable  means,  are  gf 
nercdly  driven  back,  and  confined  to  them  or  fomething  worfe,  with 
the  addition  of  difgracc.  This  gives  their  aftivjty  a  proper  direc- 
tion *,  if  they  will  improve  by  the  difpcnfation.  If  fome  will  not 
learn  this  lefTon,  and  degrade  themfclves  ftill  further,  it  only  (hows 
that  the  will  of  man  is  free,  and  that  fome  rather  chufe  to  make 
themfelves  ivarnings  than  examples.  Inftances  of  fuccefsful  fraud 
often  occur ;  but  as  thofe  are  not  puni(hed  here,  it  futnifhes  a  ftrong 
probability  of  a  future  difpenfation.  As  the  inftances  of  thefe  who 
are  corredted  here,  proves  the  fuperintcndence  of  a  moral  Go* 
Tcmor. 

•  See  Eflt)-  on  the  Purgaierh. 


END   OF    THE    THIRTEENTH    CANTO* 


C  209  5 


CANTO  THE  FOURTEENTH. 


ARGUMENT. 

Beyond  the  Forefl  of  Suicide,  the  two  Travellers  find  the  Plains 
of  Blafphemy  and  Atheifm,  where  the  Ghoft  of  Capaneus,  one 
of  the  Theban  Leaders,  makes  a  confpicuous  figure.  After 
viewing  their  various  punifliments,  the  Poets  purfue  their  jour- 
ney along  the  Banks  of  Phlegethon,  where  Dante  takes  the  op- 
portunity of  learning  from  Virgil  the  Origin  of  the  Infernal 
Rivers. 


CjLE  ANING  his  ruins  from  the  bloody  flrand. 
By  Idndred  love  compeird,  my  pious  hand 

Bedeck'd  the  mourning  bufl  with  honours  due  : 
Then,  parting  fad,  we  reach'd  the  difmal  bounds 
Where  the  red  plain  the  gloomy  grove  furrounds. 

And  Juflice  arms  her  hand  with  horrors  new. 

n. 

The  burning  fands  refled  the  tortur'd  fight. 
Far  gleaming  thro*  the  fullen  robe  of  Night, 

To  vegetation's  kindly  pow'r  unknown : 
Save  where  the  loud  lamenting  Grove  behind 
Loads  with  h(?r  difmal  plaints  the  paffing  wind. 

And  girds  the  Champaign  with  a  gloomy  zonCt 
Vol.  I.  P 


[      210      ] 

m. 

Our  cautious  feet  with  agonizing  pain 
Coafled  around  that  ever-burning  plain. 

And  left  the  Grove  of  Suicide  behind: 
Such  burning  fands  the  fearlefs  Roman  trod. 
And  fac*d  the  terrors  of  the  fervid  God, 

Ere  Liberty  her  latefl  breath  refign'd. 

IV. 

Vengeance  of  Heav'n  !  I  faw  thy  hand  fevere 
(Your  doom !  ye  Atheifts  and  Blafphemers,  hear !) 

O'er  many  a  naked  foul  the  fcourge  difplay ! 
In  different  lots  the  fentenc'd  bands  were  caft. 
While  fome  the  burning  marie  inceffant  trac*d, 

Some  cowering  fate,  and  fome  blafpheming  lay. 

V. 

Here  grov'ling  bands  their  burning  wounds  deplore, 
There,  ghaftly  throngs  around  the  dreary  {here 

With  daftard  wailings  bend  beneath  the  ftorm : 
While,  winding  round  the  fhore,  unknown  to  reft. 
Some  fhift  in  endlefs  march  their  feet  unbleft. 

And  o'er  the  plain  in  many  a  Legion  fwarm. 

VL 

A  race  feleA  poflefs'd  the  middle  plain, 

Lefs  numerous  far,  but  doom'd  to  fiercer  pain  I 

St.  iii.  /•  4<  ]  Alluding  to  the  famous  march  of  Cato,  with  the 
remains  of  Pompey's  beaten  army,  through  the^burning  fands  of 
Lybia. See  a  very  fpirited  defcription  of  liis  Jouniey,  Phar- 


falia,  Book  ix. 


.1  .jo7  For 


I 


C   211   3 

For  there  in  waving  folds  the  fheeted  fire 
Inceffant  falls,  as  o'er  the  Alpine  fteeps 
When  in  his  Cave  the  wrath  of  Boreas  fleeps. 

The  fnow  defcends,  and  wreaths  the  rocky  fpire, 

Yll. 

As  when  young  Ammon  trod  the  Indian  wafte. 
He  faw  the  climate  breathe  a  fulph'rous  blaft, 

And  fire  with  catching  flames  the  fultry  fhore  j 
'Till  numerous  hands  upturned  the  flagrant  foil. 
And  check'd  the  running  plague  with  patient  toil. 

While  Heav*n  in  pity  gave  the  contefh  o'en 

\TII. 

Thus  the  red  tempefl  overhead  defcends. 
The  fuel'd  plain  her  dire  afliflance  lends  j 

St.  vii.  /.  T.]  This  ftory  of  Alexander  the  Great  is  taken  from 
Albeitus  Magnus  (de  mirabilibus  mundi).  He  fays,  that  in  India 
the  fun  extradls  the  terreftrial  vapours,  and  kindling  them  in  the 
air,  fends  them  down  in  fhowers  of  fire  ;  and  that  Alexander,  to 
prevent  this  inconvenience,  caufed  the  ground  to  be  turned  up.— 
In  the  province  of  Perfia,  where  the  vvorihippers  of  Fire  hold  their 
chief  myfteries,  the  whole  furface  of  the  earth,  for  a  confiderable 
fpace,  feems  impregnated  with  inflammable  vapours.  A  reed  ftuck 
into  the  ground  continues  to  burn'  like  a  flambeaux.  An  hole 
made  under  the  furface  of  the  earth  immediately  becomes  a  fur- 
nace, anfwering  aU  the  purpofes  of  a  culinaiy  fire.  They  make 
lime  there  by  merely  burying  the  ftones  in  the  earth,  and  watch, 
with  veneration  the  appearance  of  a  flame  that  has  not  been  extin- 
guiflied  for  time  immemorial. — Goldfmith's  Hiftory  of  the  Earth, 
vol.  i.  page  86. 

This  horrible  defcription,  and  the  difi^erent  charafters  and  fitua- 
tions  of  the  criminal,  would  make  a  noble  fubjedl  for  the  pencil  of 
a  Salvator  Rofa. 

P  a  'Till 


[       212       ] 

*Till  rousM  to  rage,  the  blended  burnings  meet ; 
A  thoufand  plagues  around  the  Legions  dwell. 
Ten  thoufand  hands  the  clinging  plague  repel, 

The  plain  loud  echoing  to  their  fhifting  feet. 

IX. 

"  Oh,  Guide !  with  whom  the  burning  wall  I  viewM, 
Whom  nought  but  yon*  rebellious  Fiends  withftood  5 

Difclofe  HIS  name,  whofe  Giant-bulk  divides 
The  parted  bands !  his  lot  he  feems  to  fcom : 
The  ftorm  unheeded  falls,  in  vengeance  borne. 

And  guiltlefs  flames  furround  his  lofty  fides." 

X. 

The  Giant  heard  ;  "  And  ftill  the  fame,"  he  cry*d, 
*'  Since  this  ftrong  arm  the  bolt  of  Jove  defy'd, 

I  feel  his  utmoft,  and  his  pow'r  defpife. 
Blow  all  your  fires,  ye  Sons  of  JEtm !  blow 
Vesuvius  !  groan  thro'  ev'ry  vault  below  ; 

In  vain  your  red  explofions  fweep  the  fkies  ! 

XL 

"  Your  blended  fires  ihall  find  my  foul  the  fame, 
Tho'  Phligra  join  her  fierce,  auxiliar  flame,. 

St.x.  1.  I.]  This  Giant-form  is  Capaneus,  one  of  the  feven 
leaders  who  invaded  Thebes,  remarkable  for  his  bravery  and  blaf- 
phemy.     He  'w?a  ftruck  dead  with  lightning  in  attempting  to  fcale 

the  wall. See  Euripides  Phaznifljc,  JEfchylus,  Statius  Thebaid. 

lib.  X. 

Milton  feems  to  have  borrowed  and  transferred  to  his  own  Arch- 
rebel  fome  traits  of  this  unfubmitting  chara^er.  See  Par.  Loft, 
B.  i. 

With 


C   213   ] 

with  ev'ry  bolt  that  fcar'd  the  giant  brood : 
Ev*n  here,  enwomb'd  within  the  flaming  deep. 
This  eye  can  bid  his  boafled  triumph  weep, 

This  mind  retain  Its  firm  unalter*d  mood." 

XII. 

In  harfh  unwonted  flraln  returned  the  Bard  : — 
"  Ill-fated  Chief!  in  vain  by  thunders  marr*d. 

Still  lives  thy  pride  In  this  infernal  vale  ? — 
Thy  deadly  rage  fublimes  the  circling  fires  ! 
Thy  bofom-torture  with  the  flame  confpires. 

And  mingled  plagues  thy  haughty  heart  aflail.** 

XIII. 

Then,  turning  round  to  me,  with  foften'd  tone,— • 
«  Behold  the  Chief  that  fhook  the  Theban  throne, 

And  led  the  horrors  of  fraternal  war  ! 
Singly  he  dar'd  the  pow'r  of  Heaven  blafpheme, 
And  here  in  Hell  purfues  the  deadly  theme  : 

For  yet  untam'd  his  ftormy  pafllons  jar, 

XIV. 

"  Now  round  the  gloomy  verge,  with  cautious  feet, 
Purfue  my  fteps,  where  yonder  fhadows  meet, 

And  hide  the  burning  vale  with  umbrage  hoar." 
Prompt  I  obey'd,  till  thro'  the  gloomy  wood, 
Sent  from  a  viewlefs  fount,  a  fwelling  flood 

With  fangulne  current  fiufli*d  the  fandy  fhore, 

St,  xiii.  /.  6.]     See  Supplement  to  the  Notes. 

P3 


C   214   J 

XV. 
Such,  BuUcamne  !  thy  infeded  wave, 
Where  their  foul  forms  thy  fhamelefs  Naiads  lave. 

Winding  thro*  rifted  rocks  her  devious  way  ;;, 
There,  bending  gently  o*er  from  fide  to  fide. 
Her  banks  afcend  in  high  theatric  pride. 

And  by  the  lofty  verge  our  journey  lay. 

XVI. 

Not  all  the  wonders  of  the  Stygian  ftate, 
Since  firfl  we  paft  the  ever-yawning  gate, 

Ought  with  this  flowing  miracle  to  vie ! 
Where'er  it  runs  the  flame  forgets  to  rage. 
Its  waves  the  terror  of  the  clime  affuage. 

And  quench  the  flaming  ruin  of  the  flcy. 

"^ XVII. 

Eager  the  caufe  to  know,  my  Guide  I  pray*d. 
And  foon  the  Bard  the  wondrous  caufe  difplay*d.- — 

"  A  defart  ifle  amid  the  Ocean  fl:ands, 
Known  by  the  name  of  Crete  in  days  of  yore, 
When  ancient  Saturn  rul'd  the  happy  fliore. 

And  Peace  and  Concord  bleft:  his  wide  commands. 

XVIII. 
"  There  ancient  Ida  rais'd  her  hallowM  head. 
Her  facred  fprings  with  folemn  umbrage  fpread  ; 

Now  time  hath  laid  her  mellowing  honours  low : 
There  Ops  of  old  the  heavenly  Babe  conceal'd. 
While  round  her  bow*r  the  loud  Curetes  yell'd, 

And  fl:opp'd  with  clanging  arms  the  coming  foe. 

St.  XV.  /.I.]     A  river  that  runs  through  Viterbo,  and  paffes 
the  public  Stews.    Randino. 


C   215   ] 

XIX. 

*'  There,  rais'd  to  Heav'n,  a  glant-flatue  (lands, 
Whofe  front  fublime  the  fubjeft  plain  commands. 

And  ftill  to  Rome  he  points  a  warning  eye  ; 
But  turns  his  back,  where  old  redundant  Nile, 
With  annual  tribute  cheers  the  level  foil. 

While  round  his  golden  head  the  vapours  fly. 

XX. 

"  Silver  his  tow'ring  neck  and  manly  breaft. 
Strong  brazen  ribs  enclofe  his  ample  chefl ; 

And  limbs  of  jointed  fteel  his  frame  uphold  : 
Firm  on  his  better  foot  he  feems  to  trufl, 
Tho'  form'd  of  clay  and  mould'ring  in  the  dufl, 

Yet  flill  it  feems  to  prop  his  giant  mould.  . 

XXI. 

**  Aloft  his  burnifh'd  front  falutes  the  ftars. 
But  o'er  his  motley  form  unnumber'd  fears 

For  ever  yawn,  and  ev'ry  fear  diftils 
A  briny  flream  around  his  moiflen'd  feet ; 
In  mingled  rills  the  mazy  currents  meet. 

And  purling  thence  the  ample  valley  fills. 

St.  xxi.  /.  4.]  By  this  Statue  on  Mount  Ida,  the  Commenta- 
tors fay,  is  meant  Time. — The  degeneracy  of  the  different  ages, 
by  the  different  metals  that  compofe  the  image,  and  the  growing 
vices  andmiferies  of  mankind,  are  adumbrated  under  the  idea  of  the 
four  Infernal  Rivers,  formed  by  the  tears  of  Time  for  the  degeneracy 
of  his  offspring.  The  "  warning  eye"  of  the  Statue 'directed  to 
Rome  is  very  remarkable.  Dante,  in  all  his  Works,  is  very  pointed 
againft  the  corruptions  of  the  Church. 

P4 


C     2i6     ] 

xxn. 

**  Far  thence  the  wand'ring  current  winds  its  way  ; 
'Till  in  thofc  nether  realms,  devoid  of  day, 

Three  fev'ral  heads  it  forms,  of  mighty  nanie  :— ^ 
Firfl  Acheron  the  jlcleful  region  laves, 
Then  Styx  and  Phkgeihon  with  fiery  wavea. 

And,  far  below,  Cocytiis*  frozen  flream. 

XXIII. 

*'  With  headlong  hafle  they  feek  the  central  deep, 
And  in  th*  oblivious  pool  for  ever  fleep  ;- 

Thine  eye  fhall  fee  them  in  their  diead  repofe  !'* 
**  Ho\v  find  the  floods  their  fubterraneous  way  ?'* 
(I  cr)'M  ;)  "or  why  abhor  the  face  of  day, 

Aftd  here  at  length  a  fanguine  ftream  difclofe  f  * 

XXIV. 

^*  Wafl  thou  a  wand'rer  in  the  Vale  of  Death  !" 
The  Bard  reply'd,  "  nor  faw  the  winding  path, 

Circling  fron)  (leep  to  fteep  the  vafl  profound  ? 
Still  h^lf  the  uncouth  voyage  yet  remains  ! 
IS  till  many  a  realm  of  eyerlafting  pajns. 

Behold  th*  eternal  torrent  fweep  around  I 

XXV. 

*'  Seems  not  the  fteep  to  court  the  headlong  tide  ? 
Be  patient  then,  and  bid  thy  doubts  fubfide. 

Whatever  wonder  meets  thy  ftartled  eyes !" 
^ubmifs,  Ifpoke; — "  Yet  tell,  illuftrious  Shade! 
Where  Pkkgetbon  defcends  in  flames  array 'd, 

Qr  Letters  w^yes  the  gharmed  draught  fupplies  ?  ** 


C  217   2 

XXVI. 
**  Thou  faw'fl:  the  firft  in  boiling  eddies  rave, 
Thou  heard'ft  him  ftruggling  thro'  the  fanguine  wave 

(He  cry'd)  ;  but,  doom'd  to  purge  the  taint  of  fin. 
Far  off,  flow  Let  be  fees  her  current  roll. 
And  fends  to  blifs  the  difembodied  foul, 

When  hallow'd  tears  have  wafli'd  her  flalns  within. 

XXVII. 

*'  But  now  the  moment  bids  our  toils  renew. 
Hafte  !  from  the  op'ning  grove  thy  Guide  purfue  : 

See  !  from  our  favour'd  path  the  flames  recede  ; 
The  fcorching  vapour  leaves  the  charmed  fl:rand  ; 
Jind  cooler  airs  along  the  ftiore  expand.'* 

He  fpoke  j — my  ready  feet  the  call  obeyed. 

SLxvu/.i,2     See  Canto  XII. 


IND  OF    THE    FOURTEENTH    CANTO. 


J  V  » 


E    219   3 


CANTO    THE    FIFTEENTH. 


ARGUMENT. 

Before  the  Poets  leave  the  Regions  of  Burning  Sand,  they  meet  a 
detachment  of  Spirits,  who  had  been  guihy  of  Crimes  againfl 
Nature.  Among  thoie,  with  fome  diificulty,  Dante  recognizes 
the  Shade  of  the  celebrated  Brunetto  LATiNi,who  had  been 
his  Tutor  in  his  early  days,  from  whom  he  learns  the  caufe  of 
his  Punifhment,  and  the  Names  of  his  Affociates. 


A  "^' 

x\LONG  the  founding  rock  our  footfteps  fweep^l  I 

While,  overhead,  exhaling  from  the  deep. 

The  cloudy  canopy  repels  the  flame  ! 
Such  is  th'  eternal  mound  that  met  the  flood  !'■" 

As  thofe  on  feELGiA*s  ancient  bounds  that  fliood 

The  fury  of  the  rapid  Scheld  to  tame : 

11. 
Or  fuch  old  Padua  rears  againfl:  the  waves. 
Where  headlong  Brenta  thro*  the  valley  raves, 

And  Chiarantana  fees  her  fnows  diflil : 
But  humbler  mounds  the  Alpine  furge  repel 
Than  thofe  huge  moles  that  bank  the  furge  of  Hell, 

And  flievi^  a  mightier  hand  and  mafl:er*s  Ikill, 


m. 

Now  far  behind  we  left  the  finking  wood. 
When,  by  the  margin  of  the  filent  flood, 

A  fliadowy  band  in  flying  march  we  meet. 
As  objects  feen  by  Phoebe'»  glimm'riiig  light, 
When  her  pale  crefccnt  half  illumes  the  night. 

With  hollow  gaze  the  wond'ring  fpedres  greet, 

IV. 
Keen  as  the  guiding  fteel  the  artift  viewg. 
Their  eager  eyes  my  mortal  form  perufe  : 

When  ftraight  a  voice,  exclaiming  from  the  croud. 
Was  heard;  and  foon  a  ftrong  arrefting  hand  [mand 
Seiz'd  me  alarm'd  ; — and,  "  Oh  !  what  flrange  com- 

Hath  fent  thee  here  ?"  the  Phantom  cry'd  aloud. 

V. 
Soon  difengaging  from  the  foul  embrace, 

I  flrove  his  horrid  lineaments  to  trace 

With  fulph'rous  blaft  enfear'd,  and  thunders  fear. 
And  foon  Brunetto*s  ruin'd  form  I  found, 
The*  deep  conceaFd  beneath  the  fiery  wound,  [mar  V* 

"  Ah!  who,"  I  cry'd,  "  that  honoured  form  could 

VI, 
The  ruin*d  man  reply'd,  "  if  ever  dear 
You  held  Latini*s  name,  vouchfafe  to  hear 

St.  V.  /.  4.3     Brunetto  Latini,  a  famous  Profeffor  of  Philofophy 
and  Rhetoric,  and  no  contemptible  Poet.   From  a  piece  of  his,  called 

II  Terretto,  Dante  took  the  Exordium  of  the  Inferno. 
See  Warton's  Summary,  &c.     He  was  tutor  to  D^nte  m  his 
early  days,  and  was  bani(hed  from  Florence  for  forgery,  but  con- 
demned (fays  his  pupil)  to  the  Infernal  Regions,  for  crimes  of  a 
different  nature. 


[      221       3 

His  piteous  tak,  and  let  your  Guide  retire,** 
•*  Approach,**  I  <:ry*d,  "  within  this  calm  retreat 
(If  he  allows)  and  take  thy  Ihady  feat 

Far  from  the  tempell  of  defcending  fire." 

VII. 

•*  Alas !  in  vain  thy  friendly  wifh,*'  he  cry*d, 
*'  Repofe  even  for  a  moment  is  deny*d ! 

The  fentenc'd  foul  for  ever  fleets  around.— 
—-Who  dares  the  rig'rous  mandate  to  defpife. 
In  chains  twice  fifty  Stygian  fummers  lies, 

StruggUng  in  vain  to  (hift  his  burning  ground  ? 

vni. 

**  But  ftill  *tis  giv*n  me  from  yon*  band  to  ftray, 
A  fad  attendant  on  thy  deftin'd  way  ; 

Go  on ! — ^l  follow  thro*  the  vale  beneath, 
*Till  overpow*ring  fate  my  fteps  compel 
To  join  yon*  reftlefs  band  that  meafures  Hell, 

And  mourns  the  fiery  fall  of  heav*nly  wrath." 

IX. 

Full  o*er  the  burning  verge  my  head  reclin*d. 
Caught  his  fad  accents  in  the  paffing  wind ; 

As  from  the  vale  the  following  Shade  exclaims  : 
"  What  fury  led  thee  down  the  darkfome  way, 
A  breathing  foul  in  tenement  of  clay  ? 

Say,  who  conduds  thee  thro'  the  parting  flames  ?** 

X. 

"  Forlorn,**  I  cry'd,  "  and  fmit  with  chilling  dread. 
As  late  I  wander*d  thro*  a  darkfome  glade. 


f      222      i 

And  fought  with  trembling  feet  a  devious  way ; 
Pitying  my  deep  defpair,  this  gentle  Ghoft 
With  welcome  words  my  troubled  mind  compos'd. 

And  led  me  hither  from  the  walks  of  day.*' 

XL 

"  If  right,"  he  cry*d,  "  I  read  thy  natal  flar, 
The  port  of  glory  opens  from  afar  ; 

And,  had  not  fate  my  kindred  aid  deny*d. 
This  friendly  hand  thy  future  courfe  had  (hew'd. 
Such  early  gifts  the  hand  of  Heav*n  beftowM, 

Nor  had  my  friend  defpis'd  his  ancient  Guide. 

XII. 

*'  But  that  obdurate  tribe,  whofe  fouls  retain 
The  black  impreffion  of  their  ancient  flain, 

Shall  pufh  thee  from  their  walls  with  hoftile  hate. 
In  vain  the  gen'rous  plant  of  juice  refin'd 
Adopts,  the  wildings  rough,  ungentle,  kind. 

And  bears  with  yielding  trunk  the  alien  freight* 

xni. 

"  Hell  mark*d  of  old  the  ignominious  race. 
And  ftill  the  horrid  lineaments  we  trace  ; 

(Purge  thou  thy  foul,  if  any  fpots  remain !) 
'Till  civil  rage  the  arts  of  peace  fhall  learn. 
And  faftions  reconcil'd  thy  worth  difcern ; 

But,  wife  too  late,  difcern  thy  worth  in  vain. 

St.  xii.  /.  6.]    Dante  pretended  to  derive  his  blood  in  a  right  line 
from  the  old  Roman  Colony  that  firft  fettled  in  Florence. 
4 


C   223    ] 

XIV. 
**  Then  deadly  rage  fhall  feize  the  alien  brood. 
And  bathe  their  ruffian  hands  in  kindred  blood ; 

Yet  ftill  their  wrath  fhall  fpare  the  Roman  ftem. 
In  mem'ry  of  her  kind  proteding  Shade ; 
When  erft  her  height  the  rifing  vale  furvey'd. 

Ere  alien  tribes  had  ftain'd  her  ancient  name. 

XV. 

"  If  ceafelefs  pray*r  could  make  th'  avenger  mild. 
Thou  fliouldft  not  wander  thus,  a  foul  exil*d  ;'* 

Sad,  I  rejoin'd  !  "  For  yet  my  heart  retains. 
And  ever  fhall  retain,  in  facred  ftore, 
The  treafures  of  thy  foul-ennobUng  lore. 

While  life's  warm  current  fill  thy  pupil's  veins. 

XVI. 
*'  Nor,  till  my  grateful  heart  forgets  to  heave. 
Will  this  unwearied  tongue  the  fubjeft  leave : 

And,  if  difaflers  cloud  my  days  to  come. 
Let  her  whofe  voice  difpell'd  my  gloomy  care. 
Who  led  me  thro'  the  caverns  of  defpair, 

Difpenfe  with  fov'reign  hand  her  Poet's  doom. 

XVII. 
"  Nor  ever  fhall  the  frown  of  fate  control 
The  fix'd  intent  of  this  determin'd  foul, 

Whatever  plague  the  wayward  pow'rs  intend  : 
Whether  fhe  raife  my  buoyant  hopes  in  air. 
Or  hurl  them  to  the  depths  of  low  defpair, 
,  Pleas'd  fhall  her  captive  fmk,  and  pleas'd  afcend." 

St.  xiv.  /.I.]     See  Life  of  Dante,  laft  page. 


C   224   J 

XVIII. 
"  Unhappy  is  the  rtian,"  exclaim'd  my  Guide, 
"  From  whofe  weak  mind  the  words  of  wifdom  glide.* 

Blufhing  I  heard,  but  afk'd,  unfated  ftill 
With  the  high  converfe  of  the  fentenc'd  dead, 
*'  What  Chiefs  renown'd  the  dark  proceflion  lead. 

And  who  were  doom'd  the  hideous  line  to  fill  V* 

XIX. 
Prompt  he  replies,  **  the  fouls  of  nobler  name 
'Tis  giv*jQ  to  know,  but  on  the  doleful  theme 

The  parting  moments  (leal  with  envious  pace  ; 
Of  thofe,  the  chief  at  Learning's  altar  bow'd 
Prelates  and  Priefls,  a  long,  felected  crowd. 

All  ftigmatiz'd  with  Sodom's  deep  difgrace. 


I 


XX. 

"  There  holy  Priscian  leads  the  letter'd  throng. 
Here  fam'd  Ac  cor  so  tow'rs  their  files  among. 

He  too  is  there,  who  late  at  Rome's  requell, 
Forfook  proud  Florence  for  Vicenza's  plain. 
The  living  fcandal  of  the  hallow'd  train, 

*Till  the  kind  clay  his  tainted  limbs  opprefl. 

XXI. 
"  No  time  is  giv'n  of  other  names  to  tell ; 
For  hark  !  on  yonder  plain  what  clamours  fwell ! 

St.  XX.  /.  1.3     The  famous  Grammarian. 

St.  XX.  /.  2.3     A  celebrated  Civilian,  better  known  by  the  name 
of  Accurfiiis. 

•  St.  XX.  I.  3.]  Andrea  Mezzo,  firft  bilhop  of  Florence,  where 
his  flagitious  courfe  of  life  became  fo  notorious,  that  his  friends  got 
him  tranflated  to  Viccnza,  as  a  lefs  frequented  place,  where  he 
died. 


[       225       ] 

And  fee  I  in  tempefts  roU'd,  the  burning  fand. 
Mingled  with  fmcke,  afcends  the  glowing  fl^y  ! 
I  fee  !  I  fee  !  a  dire  afifembly  nigh, 

Nor  dare  I  mingle  with  the  hoflile  band.'* 

XXII. 
*'  Love  my  remains,"  he  cry'd,  and  fled  forlorn, 
In  a  crofs  whirlwind  o'er  the  defert  borne ; 

Our  achhig  eyes  his  founding  flight  purfue  : 
Nor  fpeeds  the  kindling  racer  to  the  goal 
With  foot  fo  fleet,  when  conquefl  fires  his  foul. 

As  o'er  the  glifl'ning  fand  the  Phantom  flew. 


END    OF    THE    FIFTEENTH    CANTO. 


Vol..  I. 


CL 


r  227  3 


CANTO    THE    SIXTEENTH. 


ARGUMENT. 
The  Poets,  Hill  following  the  courfe  of  the  Infernal  Rivefs,  and 
now  approaching  near  the  fecond  Cataraft,  meet  another  De- 
tachment of  thofe  who  were  punifhed  for  committing  violence 
againft  Nature.  Among  therfi  he  diftinguifhes  the  Souls  of  two 
noble  Florentines,  Tegghiaio,  and  Jacopo  Rusti:ucie, 
who  lay  him  under  particular  injunftions  on  his  return  to  the  Up- 
per World — Then  arriving  at  the  Regions  of  Fraud,  the  Poets 
wait  for  an  Aflillant  to  waft  thefti  down  the  Steep. 


IN  OW  o'er  the  margin,  echoing  from  afar, 
Our  ftartled  fenfe  perceives  the  watry  war ; 

Like  the  hoarfe  cadence  of  a  fummer  fwarm  : 
When  prefTmg  onward  thro*  the  falling  flame, 
Another  Caravan  lamenting  came, 

And  three  fwift  couriers  fpread  the  wild  alarm. 

n. 

The  foremoft  racer  of  the  gloomy  hoft: 
Exclaim'd,  "  Oh,  flay !  a  common  foil  we  boaft  j 

Natives  alike  of  Arno*s  hated  fhore!*' 
I  look'd,  and  fome  the  recent  plague  aifail'd. 
Some,  longer  damn'd,  their  ancient  wounds  bewail'd, 

The  flaming  fcourge  had  mark'd  their  members  g*er. 


Z  22S  y 
III. 

Awhile  the  Mantuan  to  the  coming  found 
Attentive  flood,  then  fpeedy  turn'd  around, 

**  And  no  ignoble  band  is  near  !'*  he  cry'd; 
"  They  feem  to  wifh  thy  flay,  nor  thou  difdain, 
Nor  dread  the  fulphVous  blafl  that  fweeps  the  plain. 

Nor  the  red  tempefls  of  the  kindling  Ikies." 
IV. 
We  flood,  and  fwelling  in  th'  infernal  gale, 
A  fuller  voice  of  woe  our  ears  afTail, 

And  foon  the  fentenc'd  crew  appears  in  fight : 
Tracing  the  fervid  plain  in  difmal  dance. 
And  wheeling  round  with  envious  look  afkance. 

My  earthly  form  they  view'd  with  flem  delight, 

V. 

Thus,  doom'd  to  flaughter,  in  the  lifls  of  blood 
With  levePd  points  the  Gladiators  flood, 

Perufing  each  his  foe  with  fludious  gaze ; 
"  Contemn  us  not,"  they  cry'd,  "  a  race  unblefl. 
Nor  fcorn  our  fervent  pray*r  in  pain  addi'eft. 

But  tell  who  leads  thee  thro'  thefe  darkforae  ways. 

Yl. 
"  That  bleeding,  bare,  and  blalled  form  behold,. 
Unhide-bound  how  he  runs ! — ^In  days  of  old 

GuiDo  was  he    "too  well  to  Manfred  known, 
In  peace,  in  war,  in.  arts  and  arms  renown'd, 
Tho*  now  condenm'd  to  walk  the  burning  round. 

Behind  him  Tegghio  treads  the  fen'id  zone. 

Si.  vi.  /.  3. — GuiDO.]     The  Lord  of  Cafieatino,  by  whofc  ac^ 
TTcel^harIe«  of  Anjou,  brother  to  St.  Lewis,  to  wUpm  Innocent 

die 


[       229       ] 

VII. 
"  Loud  raves  that  voice  around  the  fhores  of  Hell 
On  which  the  lift'ning  fenate  us'd  to  dwell : 

And  if  a  viler  name  you  want  to  know, 
That  fcandal  of  his  clime,  Jacopo,  fee. 
Where,  ftill  obedient  to  the  Fate's  decree. 

The  nuptial  furies  haunt  my  foul  below !" 

VIII. 
Struck  with  the  mem'ry  of  thefe  fhades  ador'd. 
The  mingled  horrors  of  their  lot  abhorr'd 

Had  fcarce  reftrain'd  me  from  a  laft  embrace ; 
But  Hell  had  mark'd  them  with  a  hand  of  fire, 
The  foul  contagion  cool'd  my  warm  defire. 

And  thus  in  groans  I  hail'd  the  noble  race : 

IX. 

"  Witnefs  my  fcalding  tears,  my  heaving  breaft. 
If  aught  but  fweUing  grief  my  fpeech  fuppreft  j 


the  Fourth  had  given  the  Crown  of  Naples,  won  the  battle  of  Bene- 
vento,  where  Manfred,  who  had  ufurped  the  Crown  of  his  nephew 
Conradin,  was  defeated  and  flain. See  Florentine  Hiftory  an- 
nexed. 

By  thefe  unextinguifhable  flames  that  aflail  the  Violators  of  Na- 
ture, the  Poet  allegorizes  the  ravings  of  infatiable  Delire. Sec 

the  Platonic  View  of  Futurity  at  the  end  of  the  Notes. 

St^vi.  I.  6. — Tegghio.]]  a  noble  Florentine,  of  the  family  of 
Aldobrandino,  who  endeavoured  by  his  counfel  to  prevent  the  un- 
fortunate affair  at  Valdarbia — See  Canto  X. — See  alfo  Florentine 
Hiftory  annexed. 

St.  vii.  /.  4. — Jacopo.]  Driven  by  domeftic  unhappinefs  into  a 
flagitious  courfe  of  life. 

0^3  And 


[       230       ] 

And  flovvly,  {lowly  ebbs  the  tide  of  woe ! 
Witnefs  the  Bard,  who  far  your  coming  fhow'd. 
From  Tuscan  veins  my  vital  current  flowM, 

And  Arno's  banks  a  common  name  beftow, 

X. 

**  Ileav'n  leads  me  down,  a  far  fequefter'd  way. 
Thro'  the  dark  centre,  to  the  walks  of  day  ; 

Where  fruits  of  heavenly  fcent  o'erhang  the  path. 
And  Sin  her  pois'nous  gall  forgets  to  (hed.** 
Yet  your  great  names  my  early  rev'rence  bred. 

Still  unabated  in  the  fields  beneath. 

XI. 

"  So  may  your  limbs  fuftain  the  lengthened  toil. 
So  may  thy  name  adorn  thy  native  foil. 

"  Oh  !  happy  wand*rer !  tell,"  a  Spirit  cries, 
"  Shall  we  bclie\'e  the  voice  of  common  fame. 
That  yon*  devoted  walls  the  furies  claim, 

No  virtue  left  to  purge  the  tainted  fkies. 

XII. 
♦*  For  newly  in  Gomorrah's  bands  enroll'd, 
BoRSiERi  late,  the  dreadful  tidings  told.*' 

5/.  xii. /.  2. — Jjorsieri.]  A  noble  Florentine,  noted  for  the 
feftitity  of  his  talents. — He  was  famous  for  making  up  quarrels  ; 
but  (like  Peter  Dandin,  in  Rabelais)  he  always  waited  till  the  re- 
fentment  of  the  parties  cooled,  and  they  wilhed  to  be  reconciled. 

On  being  a{]<ed  by  Grimaldi,  a  rich  covetous  old  nobleman, 

what  ornament  he  ihould  place  in  his  new  Saloon,  fo  as  to  appear 

both  elegant  and  uncommon,  he  anfwered,  "  Liberality." The 

Inuendo  is  faid  to  have  had  an  immediate  eifecl  on  Grimaldi's  difpo-. 
fition.     I    See  Boccacio  Decamerone.     Giemata  i,  Nov.  8. 

5  '  <«Too 


m 

I 


C  •231    ]       > 

«  Too  true,  alas !"  I  ciy'd,  "  the  difmal  tale. 
For  Av'rice  leads  her  thro*  the  fordid  maze. 
And  mad  Sedition  mars  her  golden  days, 

"While  Freedom  weeps  forlorn  in  Arno*s  vale." . 
XIII. 
Abafh'd  the  fpeclres  heard,  and  hung  their  head. 
And  in  each  other's  looks  confuliorl  read ; 

*'  Then,  happy  foul,"  they  cry'd,  "  to  whom  'tis  giv'ii 
"  So  foon  the  doubts  of  Hades  to  remove. 
So  raay'il  thou  telj  thy  wondrous  'fcapes  above. 

And  view  again  the  ftarry  cope  of  Heav'n. 
XIV. 
''  Then,  Oh !  forbid  the  hand  of  Time  to  fweep 
Our  names  with  us  to  this  oblivious  deep  :" 

They  ceas'd,  the  difmal  dance  in  fragments  flew. 
And  wide  difperfmg  o'er  the  face  of  night, 
Wing'd  by  purfuing  vengeance,  urg'd  their  flight, 

'Till  the  red  tempell  veil'd  them  from  the  view. 
XV. 
Now,  haft'ning  round,  we  fought  the  further  lliore, 
Whence  heard  by  fits  the  falling  waters  roar. 

In  catarafts  defcending  to  the  main. 
Thus  father  Appenine  in  foamy  pride 
Pours  the  full  torrent  from  his  lofty  fide. 

And  fends  it  down  to  fweep  the  fubjecl  plain. 
XVI. 
By  Benedict's  proud  wall  the  flood  defcends. 
Where,  near  the  main,  the  mountain-barrier  ends, 

St.  xvl.  /.  1.]     The  river  Mantonf.  defcending  from  the  Ap- 
f  ENiNE  Mountains  by  the  Abbey  of  Saint  Besidict. 

(^4  And 


C    232*  ] 

And  in  the  deep  embofom'd  vale  is  lofl: ; 
Thus,  fwelling  to  the  fteep,  the  flood  afar 
Burfls  in  loud  ruhi  o*er  the  central  bar. 

And  fends  the  deaf'ning  din  from  coafl  to  coaft. 

XVII. 

c 

The  Mantuan  fpoke,  my  ready  hand  unlac'd 
A  length  of  cordage  from  my  flacken'd  waift, 

A  cindlure  meant  to  weave  the  woodland  fnare ; 
This  Maro  feiz'd,  in  many  a  voluipe  bound. 
And  flung  it  far,  unravelling  round  and  round. 

Yet  flill  one  end  retain'd  with  cautious  care. 

XVIII. 
The  fwift  defcending  line  his  eye  purfu'd. 
While  deadly  fear  congeal'd  my  curdling  blood, 

,Pond'ring  the  future  fcene  with  rifmg  dread  : 
But  all  in  vain  I  drove  my  fears  to  hide, 
Myrifing  fears  the  dauntlefs  Roman  fpy'd. 

And  each  unmanly  thought  by  fancy  bred. 

XIX. 
*'  A  while,"  he  cry'd,  "  thy  bufy  doubts  fufpend, 
'Till  from  the  central  deep,  the  guard  afcend  j 

Far,  far  below  he  fees  the  waving  fign." 
Now  blufh  not,  Mufe !  thy  wonders  to  difplay 
Tho'  feeming  fable  taints  the  arduous  lay, 

*Tis  MORAL  TRUTH  jnfpires  the  mighty  line! 

XX. 

Kow  may  the  tuneful  Nine  my  labours  fcom. 
And  leave  my  fong  of  ev*ry  grace  forlornj 


i 


If 


C     233    3 

If  aught  but  truth  I  fing. — A  grizzly  form 
Soar'd  from  the  deep,  on  fhadowy  whig  difplay'd, 
Doubhng  the  horrors  of  th'  eternal  fhade. 

And  all  ray  fpirits  rous*d  in  wild  alarm. 

XXI. 
As  when  the  anchor  owns  the  loos'ning  hand, 
And  leaves,  with  gripe  relax'd,  the  yielding  fand. 

Struggling,  the  hardy  failor  mounts  to  day. 
With  Ihort,  encumber'd  ftroke  he  ploughs  the  tide 
Behind,  his  lab'ring  feet  the  voyage  guide ; 

So  feem'd  the  Fiend  to  wing  his  dubious  way. 


END  OF   THE   SIXTEENTH   CANT«. 


C   ^^5   3 


CANTO    THE    SEVENTEENTH. 


ARGUMENT. 

This  Canto  begins  with  an  allegorical  defcription  of  Fraud,  under 
the  appearance  of  a  Monfter  appointed  to  carry  the  Poets  down  to 
the  Gulf  of  Malebolge,  or  the  Regions  of  Deceit.  Before  they 
begin  their  aerial  Voyage,  Dantk  is  direfted  to  obfene  the 
Condition  and  Puniftiment  of  the  Usurers,  who  are  fuppofed 
to  be  puniflied  with  the  refl  of  thofe  who  had  been  guilty  of 
Violence  againft  Nature. 


-DEHOLD  the  Monfter  fhews  her  tortuous  train. 
Which  mines  the  wall,  and  over  land  and  main. 

Thro'  camps  and  courts  extends  her  fov'reign  fway. 
See  on  her  march  what  foul  contagion  waits, 
Shedding  her  poifon  o'er  a  thoufand  ftates. 

While  countlefs  tribes  the  prefent  God  obey," 

II. 

Thus  fpoke  my  Guide,  as  to  the  gloomy  fteep 
The  flying  Fiend  incumbent  on  the  deep 

Pointed  her  courfe,  on  mighty  pinions  rais'd  5 
Now  on  the  aerial  cliff  confeft  Ihe  ftood, 
The  near  contagion  froze  my  curdling  blood. 

As  on  the  wond'rous  form  intent  I  gaz'd. 


St.i,  I,  I. — Monfter.]     Fr,aup. 


C     236    ]    . 

III. 
A  faint-like  face  the  latent  Fiend  conceal'd. 
But  the  foul  form  her  genuine  race  reveal'd, 

Tho*  half  immers'd  within  the  Stygian  found  : 
Thick  fable  plumes  her  flioulders  broad  array'd. 
Her  nether  fliape,  a  fcrpent  train  difplayM, 

In  many  a  gorgeous  volume  roU'd  around. 

IV. 

Not  livelier  tints  employed  the  Asian  loom. 
Nor  Her's  who  fell  beneath  Minerva's  doom, 

Than  mark'd  her  fpeckled  form,  as  on  the  flrand 
Like  fome  tall  brigantinc  her  bulk  fiie  moor*d, 
And  feem*d  to  call  our  daring  fteps  aboard. 

Waiting  with  proffcr'd  aid  the  Bard's  command. 

V. 

As  when  Danubius  feeks  the  diftant  main. 
The  bearer  lurks  to  feize  the  fcaly  train, 
^     And  meditates  unfeen  the  watry  war ; 
With  mortal  terrors  arm*d,  her  tail  difplay'd 
Redundant  o'er  the  deep,  a  waving  fliade. 
And  feem'd  to  point  our  uncouth  flight  afar. 

VI. 
"  Come  on,"  exclaim'd  the  Mantuan,  "  thro'  the  air. 
The  Fiend  is  doom'd  our  welcome  weight  to  bear, 

Hafle  to  the  right ;" — my  trembling  feet  obey'd. 
Ten  paces  fcarce  had  mark'd  the  burning  fand, 
When  on  the  frontiers  of  the  doleful  ftrand 

A  fiationary  band  mine  eyes  furvey'd. 

Si.iy.I.  2.  Hzk's. — ]     Arackne. 


C   237   ] 

VII. 

When  thus  my  Guide,  "  to  pafs  without  a  view 
The  meaneft  cohort  of  my  fentenc'd  crew. 

Was  not  our  purpofe  when  we  left  the  light : 
Go,  learn  the  fecrets  of  their  doleful  ftate. 
While  with  th*  attendant  miniiler  of  fate, 

I  plan  our  voyage  thro'  the  realms  of  night.'* 

VIII. 

Now  winding  thro'  the  tenements  of  woe. 
Along  the  fhore  with  wand' ring  fleps  and  flow, 

Among  their  foremoft  bands  I  flray'd  forlorn  : 
Still  on  their  heads  the  burning  fhow^r  defcends ; 
In  vain  the  bufy  hand  the  Pell  defends. 

Thro*  their  long  files  in  flaming  volumes  borne. 

IX. 

At  length  the  wretches  fmk  beneath  their  toil  j 
But  kindling  all  around,  the  torrid  foil 

Denies  their  weary  limbs  the  wifli'd  repofe : 
Thus  infedt  tribes  in  fummer  fwarming  round 
Invade  the  flumbers  of  the  faithful  hound. 

Whene'er  his  languid  lids  began  to  clofe. 

X. 

In  vain  I  fl:rove  their  lineaments  to  trace, 
For  Hell's  dark  vizor  fat  on  ev'ry  face, 

And  on  each  bending  neck  a  badge  was  hung. 
Where  emblematic  forms  in  flames  array'd. 
Of  each  the  name  and  parentage  difplay'd, 

Illufl:rious  names !  yet  ne'er  by  Poet  fung. 


XI. 

Each  on  the  pendent  fign  deploring  gazM, 
On  either  hand  the  fiery  *fcutcheons  blaz'd  } 

Here,  gleaming  azure  o'er  a  golden  field : 
Far  to  the  left  was  feen  a  Lion-form, 
Li  aft  to  fpring  ;  and  on  another  arm 

A  filver  Swan  adorn*d  a  fangulne  fhield. 
XII. 
Then  one,  whofe  mail  difplayM  a  woodland  Boar, 
Exclaim'd,  "  what  Fiend  to  this  difafl'rous  fhore 

Ufhers  thy  feet  prophane  ? — away  !  away  ! 
Bid  old  ViTALiAN  leave  the  Paduan  flrand : 
Tell  him  Rinaldo  on  the  burning  fand 

Preferves  a  place  his  honoured  limbs  to  lay," 

XIII. 
Then  rofe  a  melody  of  mortal  founds, 
Exclairfiing,  "  Welcome  to  thofe  burning  bounds. 

Welcome  the  plund'rer  of  the  Tuscan  flrand  I 
Welcome  the  triple-headed  bird  of  prey  !'* 
Thus  with  fwoln  tongue  their  leader  fcoffing  lay 

In  dire  contortions  on  the  burning  fand. 

XiV. 
My  prefence  feem'd  their  forrows  to  renew  ; 
Theui  parting  foon,  I  took  a  fhort  adieu. 

Si.  xi.  /.  4.]     The  arms  of  the  Gian  Fighazzi. 

/.  6.]     The  arms  of  the  Ubriachi. 
Sf.  xii.  /.  1 .]     The  arms  of  the  Scrofigrvi,  of  PaduJ. 

/.  4^ — ^ViTALiAN.]     Another  noble  Paduan,  no  lefa  fa- 
mous for-  ufuty. 

/.  6.]     Viz.  Vitahan's. 
St.  *Iii.  1.  4.1    The  arm§  of  Buiaaiaaie  of  Florence. 


C    239    I 

Left  my  delay  the  gentle  Bard  fhould  tire. 
The  Monfter  tam'd  had  felt  his  hardy  hand. 
And  flood  obfequlous  to  the  high  command. 

Bound  with  ftrong  bridle  to  the  rocky  fpire. 

XV. 

**  Fearlefs  afcend,"  he  cry'd,  "  while  I  behind 
Support  your  tottVing  burden  in  the  wind. 

And  fteer  with  faithful  hand  your  airy  flight : 
My  other  hand  fhall  wai*d  his  tortuous  train, 
Left  as  we  voyage  o*er  the  Stygian  main, 

It  chance  to  wound  you  in  the  gloom  of  night.'* 

XVL 
As  one,  whofe  frame  the  Quartan  Fiends  invade. 
Shrinks  at  the  quiv'ring  of  the  Sylvan  fhade. 

My  fpirits  funk  to  hear  the  fummons  dread  ; 
But  gen*rous  fhame  my  coward  bofom  warm'd. 
And  Maro*s  fparkling  eye  my  terrors  charm'd  j 

Yet  from  my  lips  the  power  of  utt'rance  fled. 

XVIL 
With  trembling  feet  I  fcal'd  the  Monfter's  fide. 
And  clung  inftindive  to  my  Roman  Guide, 

Who  cry'd,  "  Geroneo,  foar  with  fteady  wing  I 
No  common  hand  the  hardy  voyage  fteers. 
Thy  fcaly  fides  no  common  burden  bears, 

A  meifenger  from  Heaven's  immortal  King  1" 

XVIIL 
As  the  tall  brigantine  retiring  flow. 
Turns  to  the  beating  main  her  bounding  prow. 

Thus, 


[      240      3 

Thus,  pointing  to  the  deep  his  horrid  head, 
Launch'd  from  the  airy  cliff  the  Monfter  foars. 
And  pHes  amain  his  broad  expanded  oars. 

While  fafl  behind  the  rocky  barrier  fled. 

XIX. 
As  he  whofe  hand  mifled  the  burning  day. 
Saw  from  the  point  of  noon,  with  pale  difmay 

The  world  in  ruins,  and  the  Ikies  on  fire  ; 
Or  he  who  found  his  vaunted  plumage  fail. 
And  fannM  the  kindling  air  with  (horten'd  fail» 

Theme  of  long  forrow  to  his  aged  fire : 

XX. 

Thus  ev*ry  trembling  limb  with  horror  fiiook. 
When  firfl  the  failing  Fiend  the  fhore  forfook. 

Shooting  with  level  wing  the  gulph  of  Hell : 
On  either  hand  retir*d  the  flaming  wafte, 
His  fanning  wings  the  fick'ning  fervours  chas'd. 

As  o*er  the  deep  he  foar'd  with  eafy  fail. 

XXI. 

Far  on  the  right  the  bellowing  flood  defcends, 
Above  the  frowning  rock  for  ever  bends. 

While  with  its  folemn  found,  the  ftiriek  of  woe 
Rofe,  mingling  oft'  and  loud  : — Sufpence  I  hung 
Lifli'ning  afar,  the  deep  tumultuous  throng, 

And  mark'd  the  glimm'ring  fires  that  rag*d  below. 

St.xbi.  I.  1.]  Alludes  to  the  lloiyof  Phaeton,  who,  the  Pocta 
fay,  got  the  guidance  of  the  Chariot  of  the  Sun,  and  ftt  the  world 
on  fire  ;  and  to  the  fate  of  Icarus,  who  being  fumiftied  by  his  father 
with  \\-ings,  foared  too  near  the  fun,  melted  the  wax  that  conncftcd 
the  plumage,  and  fell  into  the  fea. 


r  241  ] 

XXII. 
Still,  winding  to  the  left,  we  bent  our  flight. 
While,  faft  afcending  o*er  the  face  of  night. 

Full  many  a  flage  of  torture  met  mine  eye. 
And  many  a  penal  realm,  and  burning  zone ; 
At  length,  Geroneo  laid  his  burden  down, 

And  now  we  faw  the  central  horrors  nigh. 

xxm. 

Reludlant  thus  her  Lord  the  Faulcon  hears. 
And  wheeling  round  her  airy  voyage  fleers  ; 

Then  flowly  lights  at  laft  in  fullen  pride  : 
The  Fiend  his  charge  no  lefs  indignant  bore. 
With  joy  we  faw  him  fpum  the  hated  fhore. 

And  like  a  Parthian  fhaft,  the  clouds  divide. 


END   OF    THE   SEVENTEENTH   CANTO. 


Vol.  I. 


C  .243    3 


CANTO  THE  EIGHTEENTH. 


ARGUMENT. 
The  two  aerial  Ti-avellers  are  depofited  by  Geroneo,  on  the  Verge 
of  the  eighth  Circle,  where,  in  one  Department,  they  are  permitted 
to  view  the  Punifhment  of  Pandars,  led  by  Caccianimico,  a 
noble  Venetian  ;  in  another,  they  fee  a  Train  of  Seducers,  and 
perjured  Lovers,  led  by  Jason  ;  and  in  a  third,  they  find  a  Crew 
of  Parafites,  among  whom  they  diftinguifh  the  Soul  of  Alkxio, 
^n  inhabitant  of  Lucca. 


JlIERE  Malebolge  fpreads,  a  vale  profound. 
Eternal  battlements  the  wafte  furround, 

And  from  afar  their  gloomy  heighth  difplay  ; 
Acrofs  the  deep  they  fling  a  livid  ftain. 
And  mark  with  fun'ral  fhade  the  feats  of  pain. 

Where  ten  Cimmerian  gulphs  divide  the  bay. 

IL 

Long,  lofty  mounds  difpart  her  various  face, 
Huge  rocky  theatres  her  flcirts  embrace. 

As  ftately  ramparts  round  the  fortrefs  wind. 
And  many  a  bridge  continued  from  the  Ihore 
Turned  their  innumerable  arches  o'er 

The  foaming  flood,  and  at  the  centre  joinM. 

St.  ii.  /.  6.]     This  part  of  the  Infernal   Regions,  caUed  Male- 
bolge, we  are  to  confider  as  an  huge  Labyrinth,  confifting  of  a  nunu 

R  2  ber 


[     244     ] 

III. 

Geroneo  here  forfook  his  mortal  freight, 
And  Maro  led  along  his  trembling  mate 

Still  by  the  left-hand  path,  our  dcflin'd  way  ; 
But  pafs'd  not  far,  'till  lifl'ning  low,  we  heard 
New  founds,  and  lamentable  fights  appear'd 

Of  Fiends  and  Mortals  mix'd  in  horrid  fray. 

IV. 
This  way,  and  that,  with  headlong  fur)'^  driv'n, 
In  crofs  confufion  ran  the  Foes  of  Heav'n  ; 

While  on  the  lofty  bridge,  a  demon  throng 
Wave  o*er  their  naked  limbs  the  bloody  fcourge, 
And  with  loud  ftrains  of  ignominy  urge 

Two  different  ways,  the  yelling  croud  along. 

V. 

As  when  at  laft  the  flow  returning  fpring 
Is  feen  the  far-fam*d  Jubilee  to  bring, 


ber  of  Amphitheatres,  one  within  the  other,  divided  by  circular 
walls  of  adamant,  of  many  leagues  in  circuit,  and  a  feries  of  arches, 
fome  broken,  feme  whole,  reaching  from  the  outward  circumference 
to  the  common  centre,  aqrofs  the  feveral  gulphs  confined  within 
the  walls,  like  the  radii  of  a  circle.  On  thefe  bridges  the  Poets 
<:ontinue  their  march,  and  furvey  the  gtilph  below,  and  their  inha- 
bitants, as  tliey  appear  in  fucceflion. 

St.  V.  /.  2.]  In  the  procefllon  of  the  Jubilee,  tine  party  that  re* 
turned  from  St.  Peter's  kept  one  fide  of  the  bridge  of  St.  Angelq, 
and  the  company  that  met  them  kept  the  other,  to  prevent  confu- 
fion ;  as  the  two  parties  of  thofe  who  purfued  the  trade  of  Seduftion 
for  otherSi  and  thofe  who  exercifed  it  for  themfelveSf  croffcd  each 
other  in  the  Labyrinth  of  Malcbolge. 

Faft 


C   245   ] 

Fafl  from  the  Capitol  the  living  tide 
Pouring  triumphant  pafs  the  coming  train, 
"Who  to  the  facred  fummit  mount  amain, 

While  TYBEk  fends  the  fhout  from  fide  to  fide* 

VI. 

The  fcourge  defcends,  the  loud  refponfive  yell 
Echo*d  their  Ihame  around  the  vaults  of  Hell , 

As  thro*  the  bloody  ring  they  ran  forlorn  : 
Yet  as  they  pafs*d  my  penetrating  eye, 
A  M^ell-known  viftim  in  the  line  could  fpy, 

Tho'  ftigmatiz'd  with  ev'ry  mark  of  fcorn. 

VIL 
The  Poet  faw  my  wifh  to  turn  again 
And  hail  the  Ghoft  ;  then  call'd  him  from  the  train. 

Slowly,  with  downcaft  eyes,  the  Spedre  came* 
"  That  form,"  I  cry'd,  "  familiar  to  my  fight. 
Tells,  in  Bologna  once  you  faw  the  light 

Of  noble  birth,  and  not  unknown  to  fame. 

VIIT. 

"  Why  are  your  members  mark'd  with  fllameful  fear, 
Why  doom'd  to  run  around  the  Stygian  bar  ?" — 

Sad  he  reply'd,  "  Thy  gentle  words  command  ^ 

(Tho*  hard  my  fhame  to  tell)  a  due  return ;  ;^^ 

You  fee  me  doom'd  a  Siller's  Ihame  to  mourn. 

By  me  deliver'd  to  the  Spoiler's  hand. 

St.  vii.  /.  4.3  A  noble  Venetian,  who  perfuaded  his  Sifter,  the 
greateft  beauty  of  her  time,  to  yield  to  the  defires  of  the  Marquis  of 
Ferrara  ;  pretending  that  the  Marquis  had  given  him  a  written  pro- 
mife  of  marriage.— He  was  liberally  rewarded. 

R3 


C     n6     ] 

IX. 

•'  Nor  fingly  did  I  leave  the  finful  clime ; — 
Here  other  Tuscans  chauiit  the  difmal  rhyme, 

Num'rous  as  they  on  famM  Savona's  plain : 
Nor  wonder  when  thy  mindful  foul  recalls 
How  Mammon  reigns  in  our  polluted  walls. 

And  binds  whole  legions  in  his  golden  chain." 

X. 

He  ceas'd,  the  rod  of  vengeance  wav'd  on  high. 
And  the  black  Fiend  appear'd  infulting  nigh  : 

"  Pandar !  begone,"  he  cry*d,  "  thy  tribe  purfue. 
No  MarqCis  here  thy  frail  difciple  buys." 
Swift  at  the  word  the  fcreaming  victim  flies. 

And  gladly  we  forfook  the  fhameful  crew. 

XI. 

We  quit  the  barrier,  and  an  arch  we  climb. 
Which  o'er  the  darkfome  valley  hung  fublime ; 

Tlien  mounting,  leave  the  battlements  behind : 
And  on  the  fummit  pois*d,  with  wonder  view, 
-Capacious  to  receive  the  Hying  crew 

A  gloomy  gate  of  rocky  fragments  join*d. 

XII. 

"  Now  to  the  Gulph  direct  thy  fliarpen'd  fight," 
llie  Mantuan  cry'd,  "  and  mark  the  fons  of  night. 

Before  they  feem'd  to  fhun  thy  curious  eye 
And  ftiew'd  their  rear,  but  now  revolving  round 
Their  van  returns,  and  marks  the  former  ground, 

Sending  before  a  loud,  difcordant  cry."  ^J 


[     247     3 

xm. 

I  look*d  ;— a  train  appear'd,  unfeen  before. 
Alike  their  bands  the  bloody  fcourge  deplore, 

And  meet  with  counter-march  the  Pandar  hoft. 
*'  See,"  Maro  cryM,  "  where  Jason  leads  the  van, 
See,  ftruggling  with  his  woes  the  mighty  man,. 

Silent  and  ftern,  an  unfubmitting  Ghoft. 

XIV. 

"  By  him  the  Col  c  hi  AN  HKmrn'd  his  pilfer'd  ore. 
By  him  the  Royal  Maid  on  Lemnos'  fhore, 

Deplor'd  her  ruin*d  fame,  her  truft  betrayed  i 
Vain  was  her  pious  fraud,  her  mercy  vain. 
That  fav'd  a  Father  from  the  bloody  train ; 

Her  truth  the  perjur'd  Lover  ill  repaid. 

XV. 
•'  In  vain  her  Spoufe  the  hand  of  juftice  fled^ 
His  fecond  Miftrefs  on  the  felon^s  head 

With  ample  vengeance  paid  her  fex's  wrongs^ 
The  Virgin  Spoilers  there,  an  odious  race. 
Follow  their  Chief,  and  fill  the  difmal  chace. 

That  Gulph  to  them  with  all  its  pains  belongs** 

St.  xiii.  /.  I.]  This  is  the  Tribe  of  Seducers,  avd  at  their  head 
Jason,  the  betrayer  of  Hypfipyle  (who,  when  the  Women  of  Lem- 
nos had  confpired  to  murder  all  the  Men  on  the  ifland,  had  faved  her 
Father,)  and  Medea,  who  revenged  the  wrongs  of  her  fex  by  the 
death  of  his  third  fpoufe,  Creusa. — See  Euripides  Medea,  Apol- 
lonius  Phodius.  Ovid,  lib.  vii. — His  deportment  here  is  finely  con- 
trafted  to  the  reft. 

St.  xiv.  /.  5.]     Hypfipyle. 

St.  XV. /.  2.]     Medea*. 

•  Vid.  Ovid,  Epift.  Maed.  Jafon,  and  Hypfipyle  Jafoni.  Vid.  Stat.  Thebaid. 
lib.  V,  vi. 

R4 


[     248     ] 

XVL 

Now  o'er  another  arch  our  footfteps  found. 
Striding  in  awful  flate  the  dark  profound  : 

High  on  the  fummit  now  we  plant  our  feet. 
Soon  from  below  a  long,  reluctant  groan, 
Mix'd  with  vile  fputt'rings,  told  a  tribe  unknown. 

Half  fuffocated  in  their  dark  retreat. 

xvn. 

Soon  bending  o*er  the  verge  with  fharpen*d  fight. 
We  (leal  a  glinipfe  thro*  envious  ftiades  of  night ; 

And  fee  their  flruggling  hands  employ'd  in  vain 
To  cleanfe  the  filth  away,  while  fogs  confin'd, 
Still  fteaming  up,  the  weary  captives  blind. 

And  mark  the  vault  with  ignominious  (lain. 

XVIU. 
At  length,  with  ordure  foul,  and  fliame  befpread. 
Emerging  from  the  deep,  an  horrid  head 

Shew'd  the  dim  reliques  of  a  noble  race  ; 
Wii«ther  the  province,  of  the  fword,  or  of  the  gown. 
The  church  or  camp  he  joinM,  was  all  unknown, 

A  malk  io  deep  conceal'd  his  manly  face. 

XIX. 
"•'  Of  this  vile  crew,  with  namelefs  plagues  opprefsM, 
What  leads  thine  eye  to  me  from  all  the  reft  ?'* 

He  fpoke;  I  anfwer'd,  "  in  more  feemly  guife, 
I  faw  thee  once  in  fweet  Hefperia's  clime. 
Where  ancient  Lucca  rears  her  wall  fublime, 

WHiofe  nobleft  blood  thy  lofty  name  fupplies. 


C    249   ] 

XX. 

**  Too  well  thofe  hated  lineaments  difclofe 
Alexio's  name,  and  well-deferved  woes,** 

He  faid,  and  fmote  his  face  with  frantic  cry : 
**  To  flatt*ry's  note  I  tun*d  my  fervile  tongue. 
With  unearn'd  wreaths  the  worthlefs  head  I  hung  ; 

Now  other  cares  my  weary  hand  employ,** 

XXL 

*'  Behold  that  loathfome  Form,**  the  Guide  exclaimed,— 
*'  Who  ever  feems  employ*d  in  rites  unnam'd  ; 

Now  lurking  low,  and  now  ered  fhe  (lands: 
Yon'  fhape  deform,  and  foul  polluted  brow. 
Thro*  Greece  of  old  infpir*d  the  amorous  vow. 

And  titled  Slaves  obey'd  her  proud  commands.*' 

St.  XX.  /.  2. — Alexio's.]     a  noted  Parafite  of  thofe  times. 

St.  xxi.  /.  I.]     The  famous  Courtezan  of  Corinth. 

/.  6,3  Pandars,  Seducers,  and  Parafites  are  here  very 
properly  clafFed  together ;  and  though  their  punifhment  be  not  vtry 
decorous,  it  is  ncverthelefs  ftriftly  juft,  as  they  all  by  various  means 
make  a  God  of  THErn  Belly,  and  are  fuitably  rewarded  by  the 
Deity  whom  they  adore. 


END  OF    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CANTO. 


t   asi   J 


CANTO   THE   NINETEENTH. 


ARGUMENT. 

In  the  third  Circle  of  Malebolge,  the  Poets  next  arrive  at  the 
Gulf  of  Simony,  where  they  find  the  Soul  of  Pope  Nicholas 
the  Third,  and  learn  from  him  the  Nature  of  the  Punifhment  of 
Magus  and  his  Followers ;  thence  occafion  is  taken  to  invei^ 
againft  the  Corruptions  of  Ecclefiaftical  Eledlion, 


Oh  !  Magus,  tell,  what  led  thy  fordid  train. 
With  gold  the  hallow'd  Province  to  profane, 

And  tempt  the  wand'ring  Spoufe  of  God  to  fin  ? 
Your  deadly  ftation  claims  a  harfher  lay ; 
High  o*er  your  frontier  hangs  the  lofty  way. 

And  fees  below  your  horrid  lot  begin. 

n. 

Now  o*er  the  fecond  vale  fublime  we  hung ; 
Oh,  heav'niy  wifdoni !  what  immortal  tongue 

Can  fing  thy  triumphs  in  the  flaming  deep  ? 
Thy  triumphs,  not  to  Earth  and  Heav*n  confm'd. 
For  millions  here  thy  mighty  angels  bind. 

And  countlefs  tribes  thy  penal  fentence  weep. 

Sf.LI.2.'}       ThcfHURCH. 


r  252  n 
III. 

In  numerous  crannies  part  the  (helving  fide?. 
And  many  a  chafin  the  gloomy  vale  divides ; 

Like  thofe  baptifmal  fonts  that  range  around 
The  facred  floor,  where  John  of  Patmos  reigns. 
Where  late  a  life  repaid  my  pious  pains, 

A  life  well  purchas'd,  tho*  with  fland'rous  wound, 

IV. 

Each,  to  the  middle  plung'd,  a  victim  held. 
The  buft  was  hid,  the  burning  limbs  reveal'd ; 

Convulfive  flill  they  dance,  to  reft  unknown : 
For  ever  fhifting  round,  the  meteors  glow, 
The  hanging  head  furveys  the  lake  below, 

And  upward  fends  the  long,  reluctant  groan. 

V. 

As  the  young  blaze  with  undluous  fuel  fed 
Flames  more  intenfe,  and  lifts  a  bolder  head  ; 

So  feem'd  their  quiv'ring  limbs  around  to  bum : 
"  Say,  who  is  he,"  I  cry'd,  "  whofe  feet  fublime 
"With  fiery  circles  marks  the  difmal  clime, 

Confpicuous  far  among  the  tribes  forlorn  ?'* 

VI. 

"  Would'ft  thou  be  wafted  to  a  nearer  ftand. 
And  from  himfelf  his  name  and  crimes  demand  ?*' 

St.  iii.  /.  3.]  The  cells  of  the  Simonifts  Dante  compares  to  the 
baptifmal  fonts  in  the  church  of  the  Baptifts  at  Florence  ;  which, 
while  he  was  Prior,  he  had  ordered  to  be  broken  up,  as  one  of  his 
friends  had  been  there  in  danger  of  drowning.— This  brought  new 
flanders  on  him  from  the  oppofite  faftion. 


**  My  prompt  obedience  waits  upon  thy  word  ; — 
Thy  will  determines  mine  :'* — "  Submifs,"  I  faid. 
And  following  to  the  verge  the  Mantuan  Shade, 

Survey' d  in  ampler  view  the  fcene  abhorr'd. 

VII. 

Then  down  the  fteep  the  hardy  Roman  bore 
JVIy  mortal  weight,  and  reach'd  the  flielving  fhore  ; 

Where  overhead  the  frowning  arches  meet: 
Amid  furrounding  fires  aghall  I  flood. 
And  faw  with  tenfold  rage  the  dance  renew'd, 

Light'ning  the  region  round  with  twinkling  feet. 

vm. 

*'  Say  thou,"  I  cry*d,  "  whofe  limbs  fufpended  high. 
Like  flaming  meteors  mark  the  nether  fliy ; 

"What  horrid  caufe  thy  burning  buft  conceals  ?" 
As  a  ConfefTor,  Hft'ning  long  I  flood. 
While  the  pale  wretch  protrads  the  tale  of  blood. 

And  from  the  falling  axe  a  moment  fleals. 

IX. 

"  Shame  of  the  Papal  Chair !  and  art  thou  come. 
Hollow  and  difmal  from  the  fiery  tomb," 

He  cried — "  a  later  doom  the  Prophet  told — 
But  come,  Seducer  of  the  Spoufe  of  God, 
Who  rul'd  the  chriflian  world  with  iron  rod. 

Come !  thine  eternal  revenues  behold !" 

St.  ix.  /.  4.3  This  was  the  Spirit  of  Pope  Nicholas  the  Third, 
of  the  family  of  Orsini,  a  great  Simonifl:. — He  addreffes  Dante 
ill  this  extraordinar)'  manner,  thinking  him  the  Spirit  of  Boniface 

the 


[     254    j  ' 

X. 
As  one,  that  hears  the  undi/linguifh'd  found 
Of  foul  reproach,  his  quick  fenfations  wound. 

Struck  with  the  fad  falute,  ainaz'd  I  flood ! 
**  Explain,"  the  Mantuan  cry*d,  "  his  fond  niiilake, 
No  dire  fucceffor  feeks  the  burning  lake, 

With  otlier  views  you  pafs'd  the  penal  flood.'* 

XL 

Prompt  I  obey*d,  the  troubled  fpirit  heard, 
And  fiercer  figns  of  doubled  pain  appear*d. 

"  Ah !  why  delude  a  tortur'd  foul  !'*  he  cry'd ; 
"  But  if  a  flrong  defire  my  doom  to  know. 
Led  your  adventurous  feet  fo  far  below, 

Know,  late  I  reign'd  o*er  Rome  in  mitred  pride ; 

XII. 
**  Orsini  claims  my  blood — illuflrious  name ! 
To  raife  her  honours  thus  I  funk  to  fhame ; 

Unfriended,  and  unwept,  but  not  alone  i 
Many  a  proud  prelate  learns  below  to  weep. 
Above  the  fatal  pafs  I'm  doom*d  to  keep, 

'Till  Boniface  forfakes  the  hallow*d  throne. 

xiri. 

"  I  fondly  thought  my  proud  fuccefTor  come. 
Sent  to  fupplant  me  in  the  fiery  tomb ; 


the  Eighth,  fent  to  take  his  place.  In  the  third  line  he  alhides  to 
a  certain  prophecy  of  the  duration  of  Boniface's  reign.  For  an 
Account  of  Boniface,  fee  Canto  XXIX.  He  is  faid  to  have  laid  the 
plot  of  the  Sicilian  Vefpers,  to  revenge  an  affront  put  upon  him  by 
Charles  of  Anjou.     See  Florentine  Hiftory  annexed, 

I 


i:  ^55  1 

Your  fclutation  caus'd  the  fad  miftake : 
Fated,  :ilas !  a  longer  time  to  weep, 
And  view  with  ftraining  eye  the  nether  deep. 

Than  He,  for  foon  he  feeks  the  Stygian  lake. 

*'  Soon  haughty  Boniface  his  Vigil  ends. 
And  Clement  here  with  flaming  feet  defcends, 

A  darker  foul !  the  painful  feat  to  claim  ; 
As  Jason  gain'd  of  old  the  Syrian  Lord, 
The  Gallic  Chief  he  plies  with  arts  abhorr'd. 

And  foon  the  holy  mantle  hides  his  fhame." 

XV. 

He  ceas'd — ^my  fervent  zeal  overcame  my  fear. 
And  thus  th*  ufurper  of  the  hallow'd  chair 

In  fcom  I  queftion'd,  '^  Say,  when  Jesus  grac'd 
The  humble  Fifher  with  the  high  command. 
Did  fhining  gold  pollute  his  holy  hand  ? 

"  Follow  my  footsteps,"  was  his  fole  requefl. 

St.  xiv.  /.  1.]  Boniface  reJgned  only  eight  years  ;  Beneeiict, 
his  fucceflbr,  only  eleven  months.  Then  by  the  intrigues  of  the 
French  Cardinals,  Raymond  le  Got,  Bifhop  of  Bourdeaux,  was 
chofen,  who  took  the  name  of  Clement  the  Fifth,  at  the  inftiga- 
tion  of  Philip  the  Fair,  King  of  France  ;  who  made  feveral  con- 
ditions with  him  before  his  eleftion,  none  of  which  Clement  ob- 
ferved.  He  is  faid  to  have  tranflated  the  Papal  See  to  Avignon,  in 
order  to  carry  on  an  amour  with  the  Countefs  of  Foix. 

^t.  xiv.  /.  4.— Jason.]  The  brother  of  Onias,  the  High  Prieft 
of  the  Jews. — He  bought  the  High  Priefthood  for  a  large  fum  of 
money  from  Antiochus,  (who  then  poffeffed  Jerufalcm,)  depofed 
Lis  brother,  and  introduced  idolatrous  rites  into  the  temple. 


[    256    ] 

XVI. 
"  Or  from  his  flatlon  when  Iscariot  fell. 
Did  Peter's  voice  the  chofen  Saint  compel 

To  buy  the  empty  feat  for  fums  of  gold  ? — 
Now  bid  the  Monarch  dread  his  mitred  foe ; 
Go,  boafl  thy  treafures  to  the  Fiends  below. 

And  how  thy  wolves  deftroy*d  the  hallow'd  fold ! 

xvn. 

**  And  tho'  the  fan£Uon  of  Orsini*s  name 
Thy  facred  office,  and  thy  lineal  fame 

Forbids  my  tongue  to  ufe  an  harfher  ftrain  j 
Yet  ever  be  thy  caitiff-foul  purfu'd. 
With  the  ftrong  falire  of  the  juft  and  good. 

Long,  long  opprefs*d  beneath  thy  hated  reign. 

xvin. 

'*  Thofe  fordid  fcenes  the  man  of  Patmos  faw. 
When  he  beheld  the  foul  enchantrefs  draw 

The  royal  train  to  wear  her  bonds  abhorred : 
With  rapture  on  her  lying  charms  to  dwell. 
And  on  her  brow  adore  the  flamp  of  Hell, 

That  brow,  rebellious  to  her  lawful  Lord. 

XIX. 
"  Go,  feek  your  Saviour  in  the  delved  mine. 
And  bid  th*  Idolater  the  palm  refign ; 

Thine  is  a  Legion,  his  a  fingle  God ! — 
Lamented  ever  be  that  lib'ral  hand, 
Whofe  gifts  allurM  the  apostolic  band 

To  leave  that  humble  path  where  long  they  trod.*' 

St.  xix.  /.  5.3     The  pretended  donation  of  Conftantine  to  the 
Church. — See  Florentine  Hiftory  annexed. 


C     257    ] 

XX. 

I  fpoke— and  whether  grief  fublim'd  his  pain. 
Or  confcience  flung  his  foul,  or  high  difdain ; 

His  feet  with  tenfold  hafte  the  dance  renew'd  : 
Lift*ning  with  fix'd  delight,  the  Mantuan  Bard, 
Silent  awhile  my  flrong  inveftive  heard. 

And  fondly  came,  and  feiz'd  me  where  I  flood. 

XXI. 

Pleas*d  with  my  zeal,  the  friendly  Bard  embrac'd, 

And  to  his  heart  with  warmer  rapture  prefl  % 

His  filial  charge,  than  e*er  I  felt  before : 
Then  to  another  bridge,  that  o'er  the  deep 
Led  us  flill  onward  to  the  central  fleep. 

My  weight  with  Angel-arm  the  Poet  bore, 

XXII. 
The  bending  arch  with  high  pontific  pride 
0*erhung  the  gloomy  gulph  from  fide  to  fide ; 

The  Mantuan  there  his  cumb'rous  load  refign'd  : 
Then  winding  up  the  ridge  our  fearful  way. 
Where  even  the  mountain  kid  would  fear  to  flray, 

Another  vale  we  faw  to  guilt  afTign'd. 


BND  OF  THB  NINETEENTH  CANTO. 


Vo;^.  I,  S 


I 


C  259  ] 


CANTO  THE  TAVENTIETH. 


Pierian  Maids !  a  deeper  trad  furvey. 
Far  other  objefts  claim  the  arduous  lay, 

Succeflive  feen  in  Hell's  Cimjiierian  gloom: 
As  from  the  frowning  arch,  with  fharpen*d  fight, 
I  look'd  attentive  thro*  the  wafte  of  Night, 

And  mark'd  the  various  tenants  of  the  tomb  ; 

II. 
Soon,  from  the  hideous  womb  of  Night  revealM, 
Another  troop  my  wond*ring  eyes  beheld  j 

Circling  the  difmal  vault,  demure  and  flow: 
Their  motley  bands  in  meafur'd  march  advance, 
And  form  with  (lately  flep  the  folemn  dance. 

Nor  groan^  nor  weak  complaint  betrays  their  woe. 

in. 

As  to  fome  Temple  moves  the  fuppliant  train, 
So  march*d  the  mourners  round  the  feat  of  pain  j 

With  tortuous  neck  and  fad  reverted  face  : 
Their  wond'ring  eyes  furvey  their  fhoulders  broad, 
Their  faltering  feet  purfue  the  gloomy  road. 

And  tread  the  round  with  retrogrefTive  pace* 


[     26o     ] 

IV. 

The  Palfy  thus  the  feeble  viftim  tries. 

And  horrid  fpafins  the  tortur'd  fhape  difguile, 

Diflort  the  limbs,  and  change  the  human  form. 
Ye  that  attend  the  tenour  of  my  fong, 
Judge,  if  unmov'd  I  faw  the  filent  throng 

Of  God*s  fair  image  fpoil'd,  a  monftrous  fwarm. 

V. 

Their  laboring  reins  the  falling  tear  bedew*d, 
Deep  flruck  with  fympathetic  woe  I  flood, 

'Till  thus  the  Bard  my  flumb'ring  reafon  woke  :— 
"  Dar'ft:  thou  the  fentence  of  thy  God  arraign  ; 
Or  with  prefumptuous  tears  his  doom  profane  ? 

Say,  can  thy  tears  his  righteous  doom  revoke  ? 

VI. 

"  Raife  thy  dejecled  look  ;  for,  lo  !  afar. 

The  Prophet  comes,  that  'mid  the  ming'ling  war 

Ingulph'd,  with  hving  eye,  the  fhades  beheld.'* 
"  Why  does  the  Vi6tor  leave  the  fcene  of  blood  ?'* 
The  Thebans  cry'd,  as  down  thq  fteep  he  rode 

To  Minos'  feat,  a  breathing  .foul,  compell'd. 

St.  vi.  /.  6.]  Ampharaus,  one  of  the  Seven  Captains  whp 
warred  againft  Thebes.  He  forefaw  that  he  would  not  furvive 
the  war,  and  endeavoured  to  conceal  himfelf  from  the  confederates: 
but  his  wife,  being  bribed  by  a  golden  bracelet,  given  her  by  Ar- 
gia,  wife  to  Polynices,  fhewed  the  place  of  hie  concealment ;  for 
which  piece  of  perfidy  he  left  orders  to  his  fob  Alcmeon  to  re- 
venge his  death,  went  to  the  fiege  in  a  fit  of  defpair,  and«is  faid  to 
have  been  fwallowed  up  by  an  earthquake.  Sec,  Euripides  Phc 
niflx,  Statius  Tliebaid.     L.  7.  fub  fin. 


t     26l      2 

VII. 
*'^  Prefumptuous  Chief!  he  fearch'd  the  womb  of  Time, 
And  fais*d  his  impious  eye  to  heights  fublime: 

Now  Fate  has  turned  his  impious  eyes  behind ; 
See  where,  with  flep  averfe,  the  fhade  appears ! — 
TiRESiAS,  bending  with  a  weight  of  years. 

Attends  his  country*s  foe,  in  penance  join'd. 

VIII. 
"  His  charmed  rod  the  ming'ling  ferpents  ftruck, 
And  foon  the  heav*n-taught  Sage  his  fex  forfook  j 

Another  ftroke  the  manly  fex  renewed. 
Old  Aruns  fhews  behind  his  faded  form, 
Whofe  tomb  on  high  Carrara  meets  the  florm. 

And  proudly  overlooks  the  Tufcan  flood. 

IX. 

"  There,  on  the  topmofl  cliffs,  his  manfion  ftood ; 
From  thence  the  planetary  dance  he  view'd ; 

The  peopled  fhores,  and  tributary  main : 
See  Manto  next,  by  many  a  Poet  fung. 
Her  flowing  trefles  o'er  her  bofom  hung. 

In  deep  defpondence  joins  the  mournful  train. 

St.  vii.  /.  5. — TiREsii^s]  The  celebrated  Prophet  of  Thebes, 
who,  according  to  fabulous  hiftory,  was  part  of  his  life  a  man,  and 
part  woman. 

Si.  viii.  /.  4. — Aruns]  A  Tufcan  augur,  mentioned  by  Lu- 
can,  in  his  Pharfalia. 

St,  ix.  /.  4. — Manto]  The  daughter  of  Tirefias,  and  fup- 
pofed  to  be  the  foundrefs  of  Mantua,  when  Creon,  brother-in- 
law  to  Oedipus,  fucceeded  to  the  Crown  of  Thebes,  after  the 
rival  kings  had  fallen  by  mutual  wounds.  See  iEfchylus  Thebes, 
Sophocles  Antigone,  &c. 

S3 


[       262       ] 

X. 

"  From  ruin'd  Thebes,  by  lawlefs  arms  expellM, 
Fair  MinciVs  flrand  her  latefl  fcene  beheld. 

Where  firfl:  I  learnt  to  build  the  lofty  rhyme ; 
When  her  old  father  felt  the  flroke  of  fate, 
And  Creon's  arms  enflav'd  the  Theban  flate, 

The  Prophetefs  forfook  her  native  ch'me. 

XI. 

*'  Then,  where  the  Alpine  hills,  in  tow'ring  pride. 
An  hundred  flates  behold,  on  cither  fide ; 

Here  bleak  Germania,  there  the  Latian  plains. 
She  found  a  place,  where  ojd  Benaco  roars ; 
Then,  fed  by  many  a  flood,  o'erlooks  his  fhores. 

And  fills  the  valley  like  the  furging  main. 

XII. 

"  Garda,  the  Canon's  Vale,  and  Appennine, 
With  triple  mound  the  foaming  flood  confine. 

And  in  the  middle,  where  their  borders  meet, 
A  limitary  fort,  Bischiera,  (lands. 
And  rules  with  fov 'reign  fway  the  frontier  lands. 

Where,  funk  by  time,  the  fhelving  banks  retreat. 

XIII. 

"  There  the  proud  waters  fcorn  their  ancient  bound^ 
And  burft  away,  and  flood  the  fertile  grounds : 

Fair  Mikcio  there  begins  his  mighty  courfe, 
And  from  the  fwelling  tide  its  wealth  receives  ; 
Then  fweeps  th*  adjacent  plain  with  broader  waves. 

And  wdnds  at  leifure  round  Governo*s  Ihores. 


[     253    ] 

XIV. 

**  At  length  her  fubjeft  ftreams  in  Padus  loft, 
Obfcure,  and  namelefs,  feek  the  Adrian  coafl  j 

Yet,  ere  its  tribute  fwells  the  fov'reign  tide, 
A  fpacious  valley  checks  its  headlong  hafte. 
And  brown  it  fpreads  a  fullen  watry  wafte. 

Filling  with  noxious  fleams  the  airy  void* 

XV. 
"  'Twas  here,  embofomM  in  the  circling  deep. 
Where  dreary  fogs  unfann'd  for  ever  fleep  ; 

A  defert  ifle  the  fad  Enchantrefs  found  : 
Where,  wrapt  in  tenfold  night,  the  Hag  profane 
'Her  arts  employ'd,  and  rul'd  the  fubjed:  train  j 

And  Manto' s  name  yet  marks  the  gloomy  ground. 

XVI. 
"  But  Freedom  chofe  at  length  the  facred  feat. 
And  found  her  favour*d  fons  a  fafe  retreat ; 

By  many  a  marfti  and  founding  flood  fecur*d : 
Succeeding  ages  faw  her  numbers  fwell. 
And  fpread  their  fame  till  Casalodi  fell 

To  meet  his  doom  by  Pinampnt  allur'd.'* 

XVII. 

Thus  Mantua  rofe  amid  the  circling  wave  t 
Let  no  invented  tale  thy  ear  deceive.'* 

Si.  yiw.L  6. — Manto.]      Mantua. 

St.  xvi.  /.  5. — Casalodi]  The  firft  Tyrant  of  Mantua.  Its, 
by  the  perfuafion  of  Pinamont,  extirpated  all  the  nobility  ;  which, 
when  he  had  efFefted,  Pinamont  joined  the  popular  party,  betrayed 
the  counfels  of  Alberto,  and  raifed  a  civU  war  in  Mantua,  which 
ended  in  the  deftruaion  of  the  Tyrant.     Villani  Hid.  Flor. 

S4 


t:  264  3 

"  Thy  record  with  their  tales  compar'd,"  I  faid, 
**  Like  orient  gems  to  dying  embers  (how, 
But  other  vifions  fill  the  vale  below. 

Come,  gentle  Bard  !  and  name  the  pafling  Dead." 

XVIII. 
"  Yon*  veneraMIe  Sage,  whofe  beard  defcends, 
And  o'er  his  back  an  hoary  fhade  extends. 

When  Greece  her  millions  pour'd  on  Aulis*  coafl, 
And  angry  Dian  charm'd  the  fleeping  wave, 
With  Calchas  join'd,  the  bloody  coimfel  gave. 

Which  wafted  o'er  to  Troy  the  mighty  Hoft. 

XIX. 

'*  Still  lives  his  name  in  my  heroic  fong. 

To  thee  bed  known  the  Latian  bards  among. — 

See  Michael  Scot,  for  magic  arts  renown'd, 
Meafures,  in  garb  fucciaci,  the  mighty  maze. 
With  fault'ring  fteps  behind  Bonatti  ftrays. 

And  laft  Asdente  fweeps  the  circle  round. 

XX. 
"  Far,  far  behind  appears  the  Beldame  train, 
Who  chang'd  Minerva's  arts  for  viler  gain, 

St.  xviii.  /.  I.]  EuRYPYLUS  the  Augur,  who,  it  is  faid,  when 
the  Greeks  were  wind-bound  at  Aulis,  counfelled  the  Cacrifice  of 
Iphigenia,  to  appeafe  the  anger  of  Diana,  and  procure  a  fair  wiijd. 
See  Euripides,  Iphigenia  in  Auhdc. 

,St.  xix.  /.  3.]  A  famous  Aftrologer,  and  fuppofcd  Magician  of] 
the  1 3th  century  ;  he  Is  faid  to  have  predifted  the  death  of  Frederic 
he  Second. 

St.  xix.  /.  6.]  Bonatti  and  Asdente,  two  Italian  Aftrologers 
of  the  fame  perio^. — The  Great  Men  of  that  age  never  undertook 
any  thing  of  confeqiience  without  confulting  an  Aftrologer. 


C    265    ] 

And  left  the  humble  diftafF,  and  the  loom : — 
But  now  the  moon  full-orb*d,  with  fhadowy  face. 
By  Seville  ends  her  long,  nofturnal  race. 

And  op*ning  day  difpels  the  mighty  gloom. 

XXI. 
**  Laft  night  Ihe  fiU'd  her  horns,  and  chas*d  the  night  j 
That  lilver  crefcent,  whofe  benignant  light 

Show'd  thro'  the  baleful  grove  your  dubious  way ; 
Now  full  opposM  to  Phoebus*  eaftern  car. 
Soon  as  Ihe  fpies  his  mounting  fleeds  afar, 

She  fmks  obedient  to  the  coming  day." 


£ND   OF    THE    TWENTIETH    CANTO. 


C   '^^1   3 


CANTO   THE   TWENTY-FIRST. 


ARGUMENT. 


Proceeding  over  another  Bridge,  the  Poets  fee  below  the  Depart- 
ment of  Baratry,  where  the  State  Simonifts,  or  they  who  were 
guilty  of  felling  Offices,  or  making  traffic  of  Juftice,  are  con- 
fined. On  the  arrival  of  a  new  Criminal,  a  Native  of  Lucca, 
they  learn  feveral  particulars  relating  to  their  Punifliment. 


»3TILL  many  a  bending  arch  prolonged  our  way. 
And  ftill  the  Mafter  of  the  Roman  Lay, 

With  themes  forgotten  now,  my  labours  cheer'd : 
'Till  other  flrains  of  woe  our  converfe  broke. 
Where  Mai.ebolge  felt  th'  eternal  yoke, 

And  far  below  in  gloomy  pride  appeared. 

U. 

As  where  Old  Venice  hoards  her  naval  (lore. 
Deep  rang*d  around,  the  pitchy  cauldrons  roar, 

And  bufy  hands  the  boiling  mafs  divide : 
Some  bid  the  wave-worn  barque  her  way  purfue. 
Some  caulk  the  fides,  and  fome  the  fails  renew. 

Or  plant  the  tap'ring  mall  in  flately  pride. 

III. 

Thus  boil'd  the  Gulph  by  heavenly  rage  fublim'd. 
The  black  bituminous  furge  alternate  climb*d 

The 


t    ^68    3 

The  fleep,  repulfive  fhore,  and  flow  retumM  : 
Deep  in  her  bofom  lay  her  tribes  conceal'd, 
Tho*  oft*  the  dark-wing*d  florm  her  depths  reveard, 

And  dafhing  wide  her  peopled  billows  bum'd. 

IV. 
While  yet  the  fcene  my  fixt  attention  held. 
Sudden  the  Bard  my  tiafty  feet  compcll'd 

To  leave  the  gloomy  verge. — "  Behold  !**  he  cries^ 
I  rais*d  my  ftartled  eye,  reluctant,  flow. 
As  one  whom  fate  compels  to  meet  his  foe. 

Attends  with  fault*ring  feet,  and  downcaft  eyes* 

V. 

When,  lo  !  confpicuous  thro*  the  horrid  clime, 
A  Son  of  Darknefs  o'er  the  bridge  fublime 

Advanc'd  with  flying  fpeed,  and  eyes  of  flame  : 
Ah  !  how  his  Gorgon  look  my  bofom  ciiill'd. 
As  high  fuff)ended  o'er  the  floating  field. 

On  dragon  wing  the  black  Purfuivant  came ! 

VI. 

New  to  the  horrors  of  the  nether  fl^y, 

A  living  load  furcharg'd  his  flioulders  high. 

With  fetter*d  limbs  and  head  depending  low ; 
Faft  by  the  feet  he  held  the  fentenc'd  man, 
And  thus  aloft  his  cruel  charge  began, 

To  the  dark  centinels  that  watch'd  below. 

vn. 

"  Come !  feize  your  prey,  ye  minifters  of  pain ! 
For  yet  in  Lucca*s  bounds  a  num'rous  train 

Pant 


C   269   ] 

Pant  for  the  voyage,  and  my  guidance  wait. 
Prone  to  State-Simony,  a  fordid  tribe, 
BoNTURO  fingly  fcorns  the  golden  bribe. 

Nor  fells  the  honours  of  his  parent  flate/' 

VIII. 

He  flung  his  burden  down,  and  inftant  fled 
Along  the  bending  arch  with  tyger  tread ; 

As  from  his  chain  difmifs'd,  the  hardy  hound 
Purfues  the  thief,  fagacious  thro*  the  gloom. 
Meantime  his  brethren  feal  the  vi£lim's  doom. 

And  hurl  him  fcreaming  to  the  Gqlph  profound, 

IX. 

Emerging  flow,  he  fought  the  nearer  coafl:. 
His  features  in  a  pitchy  vizor  lofl:. 

"  Back  to  the  boiling  deep,'*  the  Demons  cry*d, 
'*  No  Vjeronica  hears  her  fons  to  fave. 
Go  with  the  cool  delights  of  Serchio's  wave. 

Compare  the  tumults  of  the  fiery  tide.'* 

St.  vii.  /.  5.— B0NTURQ.3  Spoken  ironically,  he  being  the  mod 
comipt  magiftrate  in  Italy.  Vellutello. 

Si.  ix.  /.  4. — Veronica.]  Or  St.  Suaire  ;  /.  e.  St.  Napkin,  the 
Handkerchief  of  St.  Veronica,  which  fhe  is  faid  to  have  given  to 
our  Saviour,  as  he  was  going  to  his  Crucifixion,  to  wipe  his  face, 
and  to  have  received  it  back  with  a  lively  impreffion  of  his  counte- 
nance upoq  it.  This  relic  was  then  kept  at  Lucca,  but  now  at 
Ronie,  where  it  is  fhewn  with  great  pomp  every  Good  Friday.  I 
fince  learn  it  was  a  double  handkerchief,  and  that  a  double  impreffion 

was  made ;  confequently  there  is  one  at  each  place. To  this  the 

Pembn  ironically  alludes. 

Si.  ix.  /.  5.]     Serchio,  a  River  th^t  runs  through  LwccA. 


C   370   ] 

X. 

*'  Hence  !  or  thofc  barbed  hooks  thy  limbs  arrefl  j'* 
Reludant,  flow,  retir'd  the  foul  unbleft  : 

But  the  dire  anglers  feiz'd  and  plung*d  amain 
The  tardy  wretch — "  And  now,'*  they  ci7'd,  "  tixplorc 
The  depths,  and  crown  thy  toils  with  golden  ore, 

Or  join  the  difmal  dance  with  yonder  train," 

XI. 

The  vidim  funk,  and  high  the  billows  rofe. 
As  when  the  flame  around  the  cauldron  glows  j 

High  o*er  the  verge  the  fumy  furges  fwell. 
In  eddies  borne,  the  quarter'd  limbs  afcend  : 
With  eager  prongs  the  brawny  flaves  attend. 

And  down  by  turns  the  floating  mafs  compel. 

XII. 

*'  Here,"  faid  the  Bard,  "  beneath  this  rocky  mound^ 
Hide  thee  awhile,  lefl:  yonder  fiends  furround, 

And  with  untimely  challenge  caufe  delay : 
Nor  dread  the  foe,  tho'  feeming  fate  impend, 
This  hand  has  learnt  the  danger  to  defend. 

And  hold  the  Denizens  gf  Hell  at  bay," 

XIII. 
He  fpoke,  and  mark'd  the  place,  and  fped  along. 
The  Demons  faw,  and  fafl:  around  him  throng, 

With  level'd  fpears,  and  many  an  uncouth  yell : 
The  dauntlefs  Poet  wav'd  his  magic  hand, 
"  Retire,"  he  cry'd,  "  your  headlong  rage  command^ 

No  bold  intruder  views  the  bounds  of  Hell. 


XIV. 

**  Or  if  you  mean  to  try  the  force  of  fate. 
Detach  at  leail  fome  chofen  delegate. 

To  learn  my  motives,  ere  the  battle  rage." 
The  vagrant  thus  aflerts  the  public  way  j 
His  brandifliM  truncheon  keeps  the  curs  at  bay, 

Aloof  the  clam'rous  tribe  the  combat  wage. 

XV. 

*'  Go,  Malacoda,  hafte  1"  the  fiends  exclaim, 
"  And  inftant  learn  the  daring  felon's  name." 

"  Why  thus  delay  his  doom  ?"  the  Demon  cry'd. 
And  murm'ring  fled — Prepared  the  Mantuan  flood. 
And  with  flern  eye  the  Stygian  courier  view'd  j 

Then  fearlefs,  thus  began  my  awful  guide : 

XVI. 

*'  Thro'  thefe  fad  bounds  to  flray,  and  flray  fecure. 
Where  fiery  gulphs  defcend,  and  rocks  immure. 

Say,  Demons— ^feems  it  lefs  than  Heav'n*s  command  ? 
Commiflion'd  thence,  a  Mortal's  fleps  I  lead. 
Jieav'n  wills,  and  op'ning  Hell  approves  the  deed, 

^nd  dare  yon'  fable  Chief  his  will  withfland  ?" — 

XVII. 

pown  at  his  feet  the  fiery  Trident  fell. 

And  to  his  mates  he  cry'd  with  uncouth  yell ; 

*'  Ye^Sons  of  Hades,  bid  your  fury  ceafe  !"-<^ 

*'  Come  from  your  fecret  cell,"  the  Mantuan  cries, 

*'  Before  us  now  uninterrupted  lies 

The  fteep  defcent,  and  all  around  is  peace," 


[      272      ] 

XVIII. 

I  heard,  and  ftraight  obey'd  the  pious  Bard, 

The  Demons  hemm'd  me  round — a  grizzly  guard, 

Reludant  yet,  and  burning  for  their  prey. 
Thus,  circled  round  with  death,  the  captive  band 
At  old  Caprona  fear'd  the  conquering  hand. 
The'  ftrong  engagements  held  the  foe  at  bay. 

XIX. 

Inftant  they  wheel  around,  an  hideous  fwarm. 
And  guide  ys  on  our  way ; — ^with  wild  alarm 

Half  fais*d,  my  trembling  eye  their  Ihapes  furvey'dj 
While  the  dread  whifper  ftole  in  murmurs  round : 
*'  Come,  let  the  Mortal  feel  the  fiery  wound," 

But  fopn  the  Chieftain's  eye  their  rage  allay'd. 

XX. 

When  thus  the  leader  of  the  Stygian  guard ; 
**  Behold  yon*  rocks  that  feem  by  thunder  marr*d, 

Whofe  rifted  ruins  crofs  the  public  path  : 
Twelve  hundred  circles  of  the  fun  are  paft. 
Since  dire  deftruftion  trod  the  hideous  wafte. 

And  left  thofe  figns  of  monumental  wrath, 

XXI. 

*'  That  breach  will  ftop  your  way — ^but  wind  around ; 
Still  further  on  another  bridge  is  found, 

S(.  xviii;¥.  5.3  Alludes  to  the  taking  of  Pifa,  by  Count  Guido 
Novellb,  who  fent  his  prifoners  in  irons  to  Lupca,  left  the  conunon 
people  (l)ould  kill  them.— — Villami,  lib.  vii. 

c  Which 


[   '^n  ] 

Which  lands  you  gently  on  the  further  fhore ; 
A  trufly  guard  attends,  nor  thou  difdain 
The  proffer'd  fervice  of  the  fable  train. 

Go !  Sons  of  Erebus  ! — ^the  path  explore  !— 

XXII. 
''  Thou  Calcabrina,  point  the  dubious  way, 
While  fage  Cagnazzo  forms  the  long  array. 

And  Barbaricca  leads  the  fmlefs  pair: 
With  him  the  might  of  Draghinazzo  join, 
And  LiBico  with  Alichin  combine. 

And  thou,  bold  Rubican,  the  ftandard  bear, 

XXIII. 

"  Let  Graffican  with  angel  eye  furvey, 
Aloft  from  Ihore  to  fhore,  the  dufky  bay ; 

And  Farfarel  on  high  with  fhadowy  wing, 
Shall  tend  the  toffings  of  yon*  fiery  wave. 
When  any  foul  prefumes  his  foe  to  brave. 

Or  dares  aloud  his  baleful  dirge  to  fmg. 

XXIV. 
"  Safe  to  the  fecond  arch  your  travellers  guide  !'* 
'*  Oh  !  let  us  go  alone  !'*  I  trembling  cry'd  ; 

"  Oh,  Maro  !  is  thy  fated  pow'r  expired  ? 
See  how  they  gnafli  their  teeth,  and  fcowl  afar, 
Save  thy  frail  fuppliant  from  th'  unequal  war. 

Left  they  forget  their  charge,  with  frenzy  fir'd." 

XXV. 

Trembling  I  fpoke,  and  thus  the  Bard  difpelPd 
My  rifing  fear. — "  The  ftruggling  vidtims  held 

Vol.  I.  T  In 


[     274     ] 

In  yon'  bituminous  deep  inflame  their  rage.*^ 
He  ceas'd,  the  fable  Chief  difplays  the  fign. 
The  banded  Fiends  in  clofe  battalion  join, 

And  loud  iEoLiAN  fifes  their  fury  'fuagc, 


END   OF    THE    TWENTY-FIRST    CANTgi, 


E   '^1$  3 


CANTO  THE  TWENTY-SECOND. 


ARGUMENT. 
The  Poets,  under  the  Guard  of  the  Malebolgian  Band,  con- 
tinue their  March  round  the  Borders  of  the  Gulph  of  Baratry. 
— From  the  Soul  of  a  Spaniard,  who  had  ftolen  a  Refpite  from 
his  Torments,  they  learn  the  Names  of  feveral  of  his  Companions. 
—The  Demons  that  guard  Malebolge,  fentence  him  to  a  fe- 
vere  Punifhment  for  leaving  his  Dungeon,  but  he  efcapes  by  a 
Stratagem, 

1  HE  infernal  bugle  blew,  the  march  began ; 
I  faw  the  Demons  form  the  gloomy  van. 

And  fweep  the  rocky  verge  in  long  array. 
Thus  have  I  feen  on  fam'd  Arezzo*s  plain. 
The  clarion's  note  awake  the  gallant  train 

To  martial  deeds,  on  fome  diftinguifh'd  day, 

II. 

Thro*  vaulted  Hell  the  moody  mufic  rung  ; 

Not  the  loud  trump  that  wakes  the  martial  throngs 

Nor  the  fell  cannon's  deep  difplofive  found, 
Nor  failor's  pipe  that  hails  the  Boreal  liar, 
Or  fhrill  falutes  the  Foreland  feen  afar. 

Like  that  loud  flrain  the  hearing  fe^ni'd  to  wound* 

T2 


[    276     3 

m. 

Guarded  with  Fiends,  \vc  fped  our  darldbme  way. 
And  high  fufpended  o'er  the  flormy  bay, 

My  ftartled  eye  the  boiling  furge  explores  : 
Inipj^lient  of  the  plague,  the  toiling  train 
Emerge,  and  quick  as  lightening,  plunge  again. 

Or  feek  in  panting  tribes  the  neighb'ring  fhores. 

IV. 

Sagacious  of  a  ftorm,  the  Dolphin  train 
Thus  gambol  round,  and  tempeft  all  the  main. 

The  feaman  marks  the  fign,  and  furls  the  fail : 
Or  thus  in  fable  files  the  croaking  race 
Emerge  to  breathe,  and  ihew  the  formlefs  face. 

While  hid  below,  their  adive  members  trail. 

V. 

Gafping  awhile  the  fad  deferters  flood ; 
Then,  when  aloft  the  flying  foe  they  view'd, 

Thick,  thick  they  plunge  amid  the  flafhing  wave  ; 
And  deep  ingulph'd,  declined  th'  unequal  war. 
Yet  one  bold  wretch  the  Demons  fpy'd  afar. 

Who  feem*d  the  malice  of  his  foes  to  brave, 

VL 

But  Grafficano  clove  the  yielding  an*. 
And,  fwift  defcending,  by  the  tangled  hair. 

All  carelefs  as  he  lay,  the  fmner  took : 
The  cautious  angler  thus,  with  fkiiful  hand 
And  barbed  hook,  folicits  to  the  flrand 

The  fcaly  tenant  of  the  limpid  brook. 


C   '^n   ] 

VII. 
By  converfe  long  I  learnt  their  leaders  names. 
"  Hafte,  RtJBiCAN !"  the  Mafler  Fiend  exclaims, 

"And  let  the  vidim  feel  the  fiery  prong,'* 
*'  Oh  !  karn  at  leaft  the  wretch's  name/*  I  cry*d, 
**  Yet  ere  they  plunge  him  in  the  burning  tide.'*— ^ 

And  thus  the  Mailer  of  the  Roman  Song  : 

VIII. 

'^^  Tell  whence  thou  art,  while  yet  'tis  giv'n  to  tell." 
With  falt'ring  voice  the  Denizen  of  Hell 

Reply'd,  "  To  fam'd  Navarre  niy  birth  I  owe : 
Curs'd  be  the  Sire,  that  left,  defpoil'd  and  bare. 
His  wretched  Son,  and  curs*d  the  Mothef*s  care 

Who  bade  my  tender  years  a  mafter  know ! 

IX. 

**  Bleft  with  my  Sov'reign's  love  and  royal  truft. 
Both  I  abus'd,  impell'd  by  fordid  lull 

Of  baneful  gold,  his  facred  gifts  to  fell. 
Now  fee  my  gains." — While  thus  he  mourn'd  his  lot, 
CiRiTTo's  fangs  the  fhrieking  Sinner  caught. 

And  faft  around  him  throng'd  the  Band  of  Hell. 

St.  ix.  /.  6.3  This  criminal's  name  was  Gian  Polo  ;  he  was  of 
a  good  fumilyj  but  his  father  having  fpent  his  fortune,  his  mother 
placed  him  as  a  page,  with  a  baron  of  the  Court  of  Navarre,  who 
tuok  fuch  care  of  his  education  that  he  rofe  to  the  firil  honours  of 
the  Hate.  But,  in  a  (hort  time,  he  difgraced  his  charadler  by  the 
moft  fhameful  bribery  and  fale  of  offices  ;  his  Sovereign  was  the  fa- 
mous Thebaut,  Count  of  Champagne,  to  whom  the  kingdom 
of  Navarre  came  by  marriage.  He  was  a  great  encourager  of  the 
PR0VEN5AL  Poets,  and  fome  of  his  own  verfes  areftill  extant.     He 

T3  i» 


[     278    ] 

X. 

*'  This  fiery  trident  firft  impales  his  frame," 

The  Chieftain  cry'd,  "  avaunt !  ye  fons  of  flame !'' 

Then  turning  to  the  Bard  in  milder  mood, 
*'  Now  queftion  while  you  may  ;  for  fate  impends : 
See !  on  his  limbs  the  Stygian  prong  defcends ; 

Hafte,  ere  my  brethren  quaff  his  ftreaming  blood.'* 

XI. 

The  Bard  obey*d — and,  "  Son  of  woe,"  he  cry'd, 
'*  Does  any  Tuscan  fwim  the  boiling  tide  ?" — 

Then  faint  and  falt'ring,  thus  tlie  gory  Shade : — 
"  Oh  !  had  I  (laid  with  the  Sardinian  Ghoft, 
In  yonder  Gulph,  and  fhun'd  the  dreadful  coaft, 

I  fhould  not  thus  have  mourn'd,  to  fliame  betrayed!" 

xn. 

"  Too  much,  too  much  my  flruggling  rage  has  borne," 
LiBicco  cryM,  and  tore  the  wretch  forlorn. 


is  faid  to  be  the  firfl  that  wi-ote  in  oftavo  rhyme  ;  but  he  is  mofl 
known  in  his  amours  with  Blanch,  of  Castile,  whofe  marriage 
with  Lewis  (afterwards  Lewis  VIIL)  by  the  mediation  of  John, 
King  of  England,  induced  Philip  Augustus  to  relinquiih  the- 
caufe  of  yonng  Arthur.  See  Shakespeare's  King  John.— 
Thebaut's  Verfes  to  her  are  ftill  preferved.  She  was  Regent  in 
the  minority  of  her  fon  Lewis  IX.  or  St.  Lewis,  the  famous 
Cnifader.  Her  other  fon,  Charles  of  An jou,  conquered  Sicily, 
teheaded  Conradin,  the  rightful  heir,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  th» 
French  title  to  that  kingdom.  See  Memoires  de  Petrarque, 
Vol.  I.  Florentine  History  annexed. 

N.  B.     From  thfs  King  of  Navarre,  the  aoblc   Family  of 
Hastings  is  dcfcended. 


t     '^19    ] 

Then  flung  the  vidim  to  his  brother  Fiends. 
"  The  Fiends  receiv'd  the  charge  with  favage  joy. 
And  mark'd  his  mangled  limbs,  and  hurl'd  him  high,. 

Down  on  their  pointed  prongs  the  Slave  defcenjdsi" 

XIIL 
They  paus*d  awhile,  the  Mantuan  cry'd  aloud, 
"  Oh !  name  that  foul  among  the  mourning  croud. 

Whom  late  you  left  in  yonder  floods  behind  1'* 
The  bloody  fpe£tre  thus  : — "  Gomita  there, 
Who  let  his  Sov*reign's  foe  efcape  the  fnare, 

Laments  among  the  burning  waves  confined; 

XIV; 
"  The  next  his  mafter's  bride  in  triumph  led^ 
And  with  Gomita  fliares  the  burning  bed. 

For  brib'ry  fam'd  alike,  and  honours  fold  5 
Now  both  below  their  native  tongue  profane. 
And  count  with  fcalding  tears  their  golden  gain^ 

Around  the  flaming  gulph  for  ever  roll'd* 

St.  xiii.  /.  4. — Gomita.]  A  Sardinian,  who,  When  that 
ifland  belonged  to  the  Pifans,  was  made  Governoi"  of  the  jurif- 
diftion  of  GuUura ;  his  bribery  and  fale  of  juftice  was  long  un- 
known to  Nino,  Count  of  Pifa,  till  his  fufFering  fome  ftate-pri- 
foners  to  efcape,  and  the  detedtion  of  the  reward  he  received  for 
his  connivance,  difcovered  his  real  charadler. 

^/.  xiv. /.  1.]  Michael  Zanche,  Senefchal  of  Logodoro, 
«nder  Henry,  orENZius,  natural fon  to  Frederic  II.  where  he 
amaifed  a  princely  fortune  by  the  fale  of  jullice.  He  is  faid  to 
have  poifoned  his  Lord,  and  prevailed  upon  hi;;  mother,  (to  whom 
Frederic  had  given  the  Signory  of  Logodoro,  after  her  fon's  death,^) 
to  marry  him. 

T4 


[     2So     3 

XV. 

"  But,  oh  !  if  deadlier  tales  attrad  your  ear, 
If  names  ftill  more  renowned  you  long  to  hear, 

Save,  fave  your  fuppliant  from  the  lifted  prong  V* 
He  fpoke — on  high  the  cruel  Heel  impends. 
The  Chieftain  turns ; — and  ere  the  ftroke  defcends. 

His  potent  voice  repell'd  the  favage  throng. 

XVI. 

"  Command  thy  Slave,"  the  trembling.  Spaniard  faid, 
"  And  many  a  Lombard  foul  by  me  betrayM,. 

With  many  a  Tufcan  Lord  (hall  rife  to  view. 
The  wonted  fignal  giv'n,  in  flioals  they  come. 
To  breathe  the  lib'ral  air,  and  mourn  their  doom ; 

Confent,  and  feize  at  once  the  abjed  crew." 

XVIL 
"  Obferve  the  Spaniard's  aim,"  Cagnazzo  cries ; 
Dark  o'er  his  brow  the  fnaky  horrors  rife. 

Already  fee !  he  meditates  his  flight !" 
The  fhudd'ring  wretch  reply'd,  "  efcape  is  vain, 
I  only  hope  to  fee  them  fhare  my  pain. 

And  eafe  my  forrows  with  the  welcome  fight." 

xvin. 

Glad  Alichino  thus  the  foul  addrefs'd  : — 

•'  Blow  the  loud  fignal,  Slave !  and  call  the  reft ! 

While  clofely  couch'd  we  lurk  behind  the  fteep: 
Then,  if  thou  dar'ft,  our  fov'reign  truft  betray  ; 
For  ere  thy  head  can  touch  the  boiling  bay. 

This  barbed  hook  Ihall  drag  thee  from  the  deep." 

Sf.  xvi.  /.  4.]     The  fignal  of  their  tormentor's  abfencc. 


[     28i     ] 

XIX. 
Now  learn  a  Stygian  wile ! — the  watchful  crew, 
With  fharpen'd  fight  the  coming  legions  view. 

Expectant  of  their  prey  ;  but  watch  in  vain  : 
The  wily  Spaniard  foon  the  moment  feiz*d. 
And  fudden  fpringing  from  the  guard  amaz'd, 

Exulting  plung*d  amid  the  burning  main. 

XX. 

Mourning  their  lofs,  the  grim  battalion  flood  5 
Stern  Alichino  firfl  the  chace  renew'd, 

"  Mine  was  the  fault,"  he  cry'd  j  "  the  lofs  be  mine." 
But  vain  his  fliadowy  wing,  and  angel  eye. 
In  vain  his  brethren  bold  their  pinions  ply. 

And  fcour  the  deep,  or  the  long  ramparts  line. 

XXI. 

Thus  dives  the  Mallard  underneath  the  flood. 
By  the  fleet  Faulcon  on  the  lake  purfu*d; 

Bafiled  the  bird  afcends,  and  feeks  her  Lord  : 
But  Calcabrina  foon  renews  the  chace. 
With  full  intent  to  'venge  the  deep  difgrace. 

On  him  whofe  negligence  the  wretch  reftorM. 

XXIT. 
Stern  Alichino  flill  the  temped  rode. 
His  rival  Fiend  with  indignation  glow'd, 

And  chas*d  his  brother  Rend  to  wreak  his  fpite  : 
And  now  the  wily  Spaniard  difappear*d. 
When  Alichin  his  ftern  purfuer  heard. 

Breathing  defl:ru6tion  thro'  the  gloom  of  night. 

St.  xxi.  /.  6.]  Alichino,  his  brother  Fiend,  who  had  permitted 
the  vidlim  to  efcapc. 


i  282  ] 

XXIII. 
Above  the  tumult  of  the  main  they  meet, 
And,  breaft  to  bread,  with  grappling  fury  greet 

The  rocks,  the  fubjedl:  waves  refounding  far. 
From  fliore  to  fliore  the  loud  aerial  fray. 
At  lafl  their  tangled  wings  their  weight  betray. 

They  fall  j — tlie  raging  deep  abforbs  the  war. 

XXIV. 

Faft  to  their  aid  the  black  confed'rates  fly. 
Like  meteors  glancing  o*er  the  troubled  iky. 

At  length,  half  loft,  they  fee  the  ftruggling  Pair 
Deep,  deep  ingulph'd  amid  the  pitchy  wave 
They  light,  they  fettle  round,  intent  to  fave. 

And  up  with  pain  the  cumb'rous  burden  bear. 


I 


IND   OF   THE    TWENTY-SECOND    CANTO* 


i;  283  3 


CANTO  THE  TWENTY^THIRD. 


ARGUMENT. 

After  a  narrow  efcape  from  the  fury  of  the  Malebolgiak  Guartl, 
the  Poet  finds  himfelf  in  the  Regions  of  Hypocrify.  He  de- 
fcribes  its  Punirtiment,  and  the  Ceremony  they  obferve  in  paffing 
the  Station  of  Caiaphas,  the  celebrated  High  Priefl  of  the 
Jews.  Among  the  reft,  he  meets  with  the  Spirits  of  Cata- 
LANO  and  LoDERiNGO,  two  Bolognefe  Friars,  one  a  Guelf  and 
the  other  a  Ghibelline,  who  were  admitted  to  fettle  the  affairs  of 
Florence,  but,  by  their  partiality,  left  them  more  embroiled. 

X^ORSAKEN  of  our  Guard,  demure,  and  flow. 
Onward  we  journey  thro'  the  vale  of  woe  ; 

Like  two  fad  hermits  o'er  the  defert  plain  : 
While  in  the  molten  fea  the  Demons  roU'd, 
My  mem'ry  ft  rait  recall'd  the  fcene  of  old, 

Defcrib'd  in  ruftic  phrafe  by  Phrygia's  Swain. 

n. 

The  dark  intention  of  the  croaking  Lord, 

And  how  his  charge  with  him  the  Kite  devoured  j 

Si.  ii.  /.  2.3  He  means  the  fable  in  jiEfop,  where  the  Frog  ofier^ 
to  ferry  over  the  Meafe,  with  a  fecret  intention  to  drown  him ;  and,  for 
more  fecurity,  has  him  tied  on  his  back.  While  they  are  thus  en- 
cumbered, they  are  fecQ  by  a  Kite,  who  carries  them  both  off.    One 

doe» 


[     284     ]      ' 

But  calmer  thoughts  were  lofl:  in  fudden  dread, 
Left,  with  recruited  ftrength  and  double  rage. 
On  us  the  Fiends  their  fury  fhould  afTuage, 

By  our  requeft  to  fhame  and  ruin  led* 

III. 
And  now,  methought,  the  Stygian  hunt  began  J 
Swift  to  my  heart  an  icy  fiimmons  ran. 

With  faltVing  voice  I  cryM,  "  The  furies  come ! 
I  hear  their  moody  mufic  from  afar  j 
I  fee  their  Chieftain  guide  the  flying  war, 

O  Father,  hafte !  and  ward  the  menacM  doom  I** 

IV. 

«'  Thy  foul  (the  Mantuan  ci7'd)  reflects  thy  fear. 
As  in  the  mirror  bright,  the  object  near. 

In  glowing  tints  returns  a  double  form  ; 
But  come,  by  mutual  dread  and  danger  join'd. 
By  yon'  defcending  path  our  feet  muft  wind. 

And  Ihun,  in  friendly  fhade,  the  flying  fwarni. 

V. 

*'  If  this  long  avenue  dire6ls  us  right, 
Down  thro'  the  valley  of  eternal  night, 

Another  gulph,  with  rocky  mounds  inclos*<J, 
Divides  the  deep  with  everlafting  bar  ; 
"Whofe  lofty  bounds  repel  the  flying  war, 

To  the  loud  onfet  of  the  Fiends  opposed.** 


does  not  perceive  the  refemblance  here  very  clearly.  The  difap* 
pointment  of  the  Demons  by  vain  promifes,  and  their  ncgleft  of 
thje  prey  already  canght  while  they  are  watching  for  more,  is  much 
liker  the  ftory  of  the  Dog  and  the  Shadow. 


C   285  ] 

VI. 

{Scarce  had  the  Roman  ceas'd,  when,  waving  high. 
The  Stygian  banner  floats  acrofs  the  flcy. 

And  fun*ral  fcreams  are  heard,  and  dire  alarms ! 
His  mate  the  Mantuan  feiz'd  ;  and,  fpringing  light, 
Plung'd  headlong  downwards  thro'  the  wafte  of  night. 

And  held  me  trembling  in  his  faithful  arms. 

vn. 

The  Matron  thus  the  flaming  roof  forfakes. 
And,  half  array 'd,  her  helplefs  infant  takes. 

The  lov'd,  |he  fole  companion  of  her  woe  ; 
Nor  fpeeds  the  torrent  o'er  the  channel'd  mound. 
Nor  fwifter  turns  th'  indented  wheel  around, 

Than  Maro  fought  the  mournful  plains  below. 

VIII. 

We  lighted  foon  below  ;  the  Fiends  afar 
Poflefs  the  cliffs,  and  vainly  threaten  war ; 

But  now,  by  Heav'n  reltrain'd,  their  baffled  rage 
Its  limits  felt,  nor  durft  they  wing  their  way 
Where  lofty  rocks  divide  the  dufl^y  bay. 

And  mark  with  mighty  range  their  utmoil  llage. 

IX. 

A  folemn  train,  with  weary  ftep,  and  flow, 
Still  feem'd  to  wind  around  the  fpace  below. 

Their  long  laborious  march  with  heavy  cheer  5 
Monaflic  hoods  their  bending  forms  conceal'd. 
And  deep  depending  cowls  their  faces  veil'd. 

Such  as  the  fons  of  diftant  Belgia  wear^ 


C     286    J 

X. 

Their  fonns  emerging  thro*  the  fhades  of  night, 
Succeflive  gleam'd  afar  a  golden  light. 

Vain  feniblance  all !  for  molten  lead  within, 
"With  fcalding  weight  their  finking  limbs  opprefl. 
More  pondrous  far  than  Frederic's  burning  vefl, 

A  plague  well-fuited  to  their  mortal  fm ! 

XT. 
Loud  lamentations  filPd  the  pafling  gale, 
"When  the  proud  phalanx  came,  in  pondrous  mail, 

(Eternal  cincture !)  clad,  and  borne  along. 
Our  ready  fleps  attend  the  wayward  train, 
pur  eager  ears  imbibe  the  various  flrain. 

And  marked  what  nations  form*d  the  mighty  throng, 


• 


XII. 
Slow  was  the  mournful  march. — With  heav'niy  hade. 
Now  thefe,  now  thofe,  the  Mantuan  Poet  paft. 

And  reach'd  with  flying  feet  the  diftant  van  ; 
Still  lift'ning  near,  if  any  found  betray*d 
A  Tuscan  foul  in  leaden  vefl  array 'd, 

'Till  thus  at  length  a  hollow  voice  began ; 

XIII. 
f^  Turn,  Florentines  !  a  kindred  Soul  implores. — ? 
Whatever  caufe  to  thefe  detefted  fhores 

.9/.  X.  /.  5.]  Frederic  the  Second  is  faid  to  have  invented  th^ 
following  horrible  pujiiihment  for  State-Criminals :  He  caufed 
them  to  be  wrapt  in  fheets  of  lead  from  head  to  foot,  and  laid  in 
a  large  cauldron  intenfely  heated,  fo  that  the  lead  and  the  criminal 
were  foon  dilToIved  in  one  common  mafs.     VillamIj  lib.vi. 


[    287    3 

Commands  your  journey  !  mark  our  rigid  fate  1'* 
We  flopp'd,  we  turn'd,  and  faw  a  wretched  Pair, 
Forth  from  the  crowd  their  cumbrous  veftments  bear. 

And  prefs  laborious  thro'  the  Stygian  ftrait. 

XIV. 
Dumb,  and  malignant,  on  my  fhape  they  gaz'd ; 
My  difencumber'd  limbs  their  envy  rais'd. — 

*'  How  dare  you  thus," they  cry'd,"  with  blood- warm 
And  llcihly  feet,  purfue  the  fatal  way,  [veins, 

While  here  in  long  metallic  robes  we  flray, 

Whofe  cumbrous  weight  our  tardy  feet  reflrains  ?" 

XV. 

Then  thus,  in  groans :  "  Oh !  favour'd  Soul,  attend. 
Let  not  our  fad  requefl  thine  ears  offend  ; 

Thy  name,  thy  birth,  and  wond'rous  fate  difclofe  I 
Tho*  Hypocrites,  we  join  in  fervent  pray'r." 
*'  On  Arno's  banks,'*  I  cry'd,  "  my  native  air 

I  drew,  and  early  bore  a  v/eight  of  woes ! 

XVI. 
"  Here,  wand-ring,  I  obey  the  Sov'reign  will : — • 
But  fay.  What  fentenc?  bid  your  tears  dillil 

For  ever  thus — ^your  crimes  and  fortunes  tell !" 
**  Behold  our  brows,  with  burning  mitres  prefs'd, 
3ee  on  our  fentenc'd  limbs  the  burning  veft. 

Nor  alk  from  what  fad  caufe  our  forrows  fwell ! 

XVII. 

*'  While  yet  on  earth,  nor  yet  confign'd  to  ihame, 
Bologna  rung  with  Catalano*s  name, 

St.  xvii.  /.   2.  and   3. — Catalano  ai^d  Loderingo.]     Two 
members  of  a  religious  fociety,  half  fe9ular,  half  lay,  then  infti- 

tuted 


[     288     3 

Nor  lefs  to  fame  was  Loderingo  known. 
Let  A R no's  banks  deplore  our  deeds  of  old, 
And  weeping  Florence  tell  her  freedom  fold 

By  us,  who  fiird  the  high  Praetorian  throne.** 

XVIU. 
"  Unhappy  Pair !  I  mourn  your  ceafelefs  pain  !" 
I  would  have  faid  : — when,  lo  !  acrofs  the  plain, 

A  flumb'ring  Giant  feem*d  to  bar  the  way  ; 
The  Pontiff's  robe  his  mighty  members  grac'd, 
His  haughty  brow  a  burning  mitre  prefs'd, 

And  low,  with  fetter'd  feet,  fupine  he  lay. 

XIX. 
The  captive  groan'd,  and  feem'd  to  fhun  the  view  ; 
"  See,"  Loderingo  cry'd,  "  the  mighty  Jew, 

Whofe  will  of  old  the  Sanhedrim  obey'd  j 
Tliro*  hot  mifguidcd  zeal  to  fave  a  flate. 
With  bloody  hands  they  feal'd  Emmanuel's  fate, 

To  fhaineful  death  by  guilty  men  betray'd, 

XX. 

*'  Yonder  his  fellow-judge  in  bondage  lies. 
And  ev*ry  paffenger  his  weight  applies, 


tuted  by  Urban  the  Fourth,  called  Frate  Godenti,  or,  Bro- 
thers of  St.  Mar)'.  From  the  extraordinar)'  fan(ftity  of  their  cha- 
rader,  they  were  chofen  joint  Priors  of  Florence,  in  order  to  quiet 
the  factions  that  embroiled  the  ftate.  See  the  Hiftorical  Piece 
annexed. 

St.  six,  /,  2.]     Caiaphasj  the  Jew,  who  declared  it  was  bc-» 
{•cfTar}'  one  man  Jbould  die  for  the  people. 


C    »89    ] 

liis  leaden  weight,  to  prefs  the  groaning  bfeaft. 
The  proflrate  Sanhedrim  poffefs  the  plain ; 
Still  on  their  bofoms  prefs  the  loaded  train, 

And  fpurn  with  hoflile  heel  the  fettered  Prieft.*' 

XXI. 

Viewing  the  deadly  doom,  the  Mantuan  floods 
Of  thofe  fad  exiles,  flain'd  with  guiltlefs  blood. 

Then  to  the  Florentine  defponding  cry'd  : 
*'  Say,  do  not  yon'  furrounding  rocks  afford 
Means  of  deliv'rance  from  the  race  abhorr*d, 

Whofe  legions  line  the  fleep  on  either  fide  ?" 

XXII. 

"  A  pendent  rock  for  many  leagues  pervades 
(The  Prisoner  cry*d)  thefe  deep  Cimmerian  fliad^i 

Entire,  'till  ftrong  convulfions  marr'd  its  height  t 
Now  many  an  horrid  breach,  and  chafm  profound^ 
Deforms  its  face  to  yonder  furtheft  bound. 

Where  o*er  the  centre  hangs  a  gloomier  night.** 

XXIII. 
Sorrowing,  the  Bard  declined  his  mournful  head, 
Then,  "  Oh !  ye  fraudful  fons  of  night,  (he  faid,) 

St.  xxii.  /,  5.]  The  Demons  had  told  them  (Canto  xxi.)  that 
from  the  next  Gulph,  L  e.  the  Gulphof  Hypocrisy,  the  way  lay 
entire  to  the  centre.  This  fubhme  imagination  of  Dante,  that 
the  earthquake  which  attended  the  Crucifixion  overthrew  the  in- 
fernal ramparts,  and  obftruAed  the  way  to  Hell,  feems  to  have 
given  the  hint  to  Milton,  that  Sin  and  Death  firft  built  this 
wondrous  bridge,  whofe  partial  ruin  at  leaft  was  the  confequence 
«f  the  Resurrection. 

Vol.  I.  U  And 


[      290      ] 

And  thou,  whofe  trident  awes  the  favage  band, 
I  fee  your  wiles  1"  (reply'd  the  Tuscan  Sage) 
**  Falfehood  has  mark'd  their  name  from  age  to  age. 

Since  iirft  their  Lord  the  great  fedudUon  plannM." 

XXIV. 

The  troubled  Spirit  heard  ;  and,  lingering  long. 
O'er  the  tall  battlements  dejefted  hung : 

At  length  he  gave  the  fign ;  and,  down  the  path. 
With  his  aflbciate  took  the  dangerous  way. 
And  left  the  Prelates,  where  in  rank  they  lay 

Beneath  the  load  of  everlalling  wrath. 


END   OF   THE    TWENTY-THIRD   CANTO. 


[      291       ] 


CANTO    THE    TWENTY-FOURTH. 


ARGUMENT. 

The  Poet  efcaping  with  much  difficulty  from  the  Sixth  Department 
of  Malebolge,  arrives  at  the  Seventh,  where  the  Spirits  of 
thofc  who  had  been  guilty  of  Robbery,  either  public  or  private, 
are  punifhed.  There  he  meets  a  noble  Pistoian,  from  whom 
he  learns  fome  particulars  of  the  fate  both  of  Pistoia  and 
Florence. 


W  HEN  now  the  infant  Year  begins  her  race, 
When  rifmg  Sol  the  watry  fign  fui*veys, 

And  deep  inurn'd,  his  oozy  trelTes  laves  : 

Keen  Boreal  blafts  congeal  the  falling  dew. 

The  hoary  profpe6l  gleams  beneath  the  view, 

'Till  Phoebus  gilds  afar  the  orient  waves. 

IL 

Half-clad,  the  fhudd'nng  peafant  meets  the  dawn, 
And  views  with  looks  of  woe  the  wintry  lawn  ; 

Then  turns  defponding  to  his  hut  forlorn  : 
Once  more  the  wintry  plain  his  feet  eilay, 
The  frofty  mantle  flits  beneath  the  ray, 

And  meets  the  Sun  in  mounting  volumes  borne. 
U  2. 


[      292      J 
III. 

His  long  forgotten  crook  he  learns  to  wield. 
Then  jocund  drives  his  bleating  charge  afield  : 

The  Mantuan  thus  refum'd  his  wonted  cheer; 
His  placid  mien  alTur'd  his  fainting  mate. 
So  look'd  the  Bard,  when  near  the  gloomy  gate 

His  Angel-prefence  firfl  difpell'd  my  fear. 

IV. 

Penfive  awhile  he  flood,  and  feem'd  to  weigh 
The  untry'd  dangers  of  the  dufky  bay  ; 

Then  meafuring  the  deep  gulph  with  cautious  look. 
He  plann'd  the  enterprife  with  fludious  thought. 
And  in  his  arms  his  trembling  pupil  caught. 

And  flow  and  fure  the  lofty  ftand  forfook. 

V. 

O'er  rifted  rocks,  and  hanging  cliffs  we  pafs'd. 
When,  lo !  a  ruinous  fragment  check'd  our  hafte. 

"  Mount !"  he  exclaimed — "  but  mount  with  cau- 
tious feet. 
Left,  min'd  below,  the  pondrous  ruin  falls !" 
Trembling  I  mount,  and  pafs  the  mould*ring  walls, 

Whofe  nodding  horrors  o'er  the  valley  meet. 

VI. 

My  Angel-guide  purfued  the  way  with  pain. 
How  hard,  alas  !  for  that  encumber'd  train 

In  heavy  mail  of  molten  lead  to  climb  ! 
With  toil  fubdu'd,  with  ghaftly  fear  difmay'd, 
I  fcarce  purfu'd  the  difembodied  Shade, 

O'er  many  a  dreadful  breach  and  cliff  fublime. 


L    293    J 

VII. 

But  now,  defcending  to  the  central  deep, 
The  Ihort  divifions  flope,  abrupt,  and  fteep, 

Eafing  the  labour  of  the  downward  way : 
Yet  ftill  the  walls  of  Hades  rofe  fo  high. 
Doubling  the  horrors  of  the  nether  fky, 

That  my  funk  heart  was  llruck  with  cold  difmay. 

vin. 

Thus  the  long  ruins  of  the  vale  we  pafs'd, 
The  broken,  bold  extreme  appeared  at  laft, 

But  lengthening  toil  my  wafted  pow'rs  fubdu'd.     t 
Down  on  the  dizzy  verge  fatiguM  I  fat, 
Pondering  with  anxious  thought  my  haplefs  fate  j 
'Till  thus  the  friendly  Bard  my  hopes  renew'd  : 

IX. 

"  Arlfe  ! — In  vain  the  flumb*ring  foul  afpires, 
(Her  powers  betray'd  by  floth,  extindt  her  fires) 

In  vain  fhe  tries  the  dazzling  heights  of  fame ; 
As  morning  fogs  difperfe  to  meet  no  more, 
As  the  waves  clofe  behind  the  lab*ring  oar. 

The  daftard  foul  expires  without  a  name  ! 

X. 

^*  Arife !— *It  ill  befits  the  mounting  mind. 
With  mortal  cares  debas'd,  to  lag  behind  ; 

Yet  Alps,  more  hideous  ftill,  and  gulphs  await, 
That  mock  the  deeps  behind."— Abalh'd  I  ftood  j 
In  warmer  tides  the  vital  current  flow'd  ; 

^'  Lead  on,"  I  cry'd,  "  and  point  the  paths  of  Fate  !'* 

U3 


[     294    ] 

XI. 
Againft  the  pendent  rock  with  pain  we  rofe, 
And  cliffs,  more  dreadful  ftill,  our  courfe  oppofc  ; 

And  deadlier  perils  round  befet  the  path. 
To  hide  my  fear,  converfmg  up  the  deep, 
Tho*  faint,  I  climb'd,  when  from  the  neighb'ring  deep. 

Fierce  and  abrupt,  I  heard  the  voice  of  wrath. 

xn. 

Confus'd,  and  low  the  fullen  found  began. 
Then  louder  ftill  around  the  barriers  ran  : 

**  C)uick !  let  us  leave  the  height,  illuftrious  Guide," 
I  cry'd,  "  the  mingled  fray  deceives  my  fight ; 
Hid  in  the  gloom  of  everlafting  night." 

"  I  grant  thy  juft  defire,"  the  Poet  cryM. 

xin. 

The  Stygian  void,  with  light'ning's  fpeed  we  pafs'd. 
And  wild  and  dreary  fpread  the  nether  wafte 

A  living  fcene  ;  with  dragon  forms  replete ! 
Vipereous  tribes  the  horrid  circle  trace. 
To  Libya's  fands  unknown,  and  Gorgon's  race 

Erect,  with  burnilh'd  fcales,  and  deadly  threat. 

XIV. 

The  Jaculator  flits  acrofs  the  gloom. 
The  dire  Chelydrus  plots  a  darker  doom  ; 

St.  xiv.  /.  i.^ — The  Jaculator.] 

Concolor  exuftis,  atque  indifcretus  arenis 
Ammodytes  :  fpmaque  vagi  torquente  ceraftic  : 
Et  fcytale  fparfis  etiam  nunc  fola  pruinis 
Exuvias  pofitura  fuas  :  et  torrida  dipfas  : 
.  -w-Et  gravis  in  geminum  vergens  c^ut  Amphifbasna  : 

£t 


C  295   ] 

And  AmphisbuEna  lifts  a  double  wound  : 
Wide  Ethiopia,  with  her  Serpent  train. 
Nor  the  black  tribes  that  haunt  Erythra*s  plain. 

With  ihapes  fo  monftrous  hide  the  tainted  ground. 

XV. 

Without  a  moment's  reft,  the  fentenc'd  throng 
Thro*  warping  miUions  urge  their  flight  along. 

Defpoird  and  bare,  with  burning  wounds  embofs'd, 
A  knot  vipereous  ties  their  hands  behind  ; 
Deep  thro'  the  bleeding  veins  the  ferpents  wind 

Around,  before,  in  many  a  volume  crofs'd. 

XVI. 

Faft  to  the  barrier  fped  a  wretch  forlorn. 
Behind,  his  flying  foe  in  tempeft  borne. 

Full  at  his  flioulders  aim'd  the  fiery  wound. 
Starting,  convuls'd,  he  felt  the  clinging  peft. 
He  found  its  burning  folds  his  limbs  inveft. 

And,  mingling  foon,  they  grovel  on  the  ground, 

XVII. 

Together  now  beneath  the  fpreading  flame. 
They  wafl;e,  they  vanifli,  like  a  morning  dream  j 


Et  natrix  violator  aquas,  jacuHque  volucres, 
Et  contentus  iter  cauda  fulcare  parasas  : 
Oraque  diftendens  avidus  fpumantia  prefter : 
Offaque  diffolvens  cum  corpore  tabificus  feps. 

Luc.  Phars.  lib.  ix.  717. 

U4  Their 


[    296    ] 

Their  fcatt*ring  afiies  whiten  all  the  ftiore  5 
Again  they  part,  the  human  form  returns, 
Again  fublime  in  air  the  Dragon  burns. 

And  the  pale  vidim  feels  his  rage  once  morc^ 

XVUI. 
The  Phoenix  thus,  her  fatal  period  come, 
VeilM  in  a  cloud  of  fragrance  meets  her  doom. 

Secure  of  fate,  and  feeds  the  fpicy  flame, 
Freih  from  her  tomb  the  wond*rous  bird  revives  ^ 
In  vain  the  confummating  day  arrives. 

And  circling  ages  find  her  ftill  the  fame. 

XIX. 

As  one  by  fpafra,  or  demon  frenzy  felz'd, 
Frefh  from  his  iron  flumber  ftarts  amaz*d. 

While  memory  reels  beneath  the  flunning  blow ; 
Half  loft,  and  fhudd'ring  from  his  doom  fevere. 
Thus  flowly  rofe  thefon  of  fad  defpair. 

And,  quefUon'd,  thus  commenc'd  his  tale  of  woe  : 

X^. 

**  Ye  afk  to  know  my  race — from  Arno's  vale 
Hurl'd  headlong  down,  I  fought  the  depths  of  Hell  j^,! 

For  more  than  common  villany  renown'd. 
No  feller  favage  haunts  the  moonlight  wild. 
Nor  owns  a  den  with  bloodier  deeds  defiPd, 

As  well  PisToiA  knows,  my  native  ground. 

Si.  XX.  /.  4.]  Suruamed  Bestia»  from  his  favage  difpofition. 
He  was  notxjrious  for  robbery  and  facrilege.  He,  with  fome  others, 
laid  the  plan  of  robbing  the  Cathedral  of  St.  James's,  at  Pistoia  ; 

which 


t    297    3 

XXI. 
*'  Yet,  ere  we  pafs,  illuftrious  Bard  !  enquire 
Why  here  below  he  feeds  the  penal  fire  ; 

More  fit  to  join  the  fanguinary  band !" 
I  fpoke — the  fmner  heard  my  juft  requeft. 
And  turning  round  his  faded  face  unblefs'd, 

Explain'd  his  title  to  the  fnaky  ftrand. 
XXII. 
*'  No  deadlier  pang  my  parting  fpirit  bore. 
Since  firfl  fhe  funk  to  this  difaflrous  fhore. 

Than  the  keen  cenfure  of  thy  judging  eye : 
'Twas  facrilege,  and  lufl  of  hallow' d  gold. 
Among  the  fpoiler  troop  my  name  enroll'd. 

Still  forc'd  the  fiery  plague  in  vain  to  fly. 
XXIII. 
"  But,  left  my  deadly  plagues  regale  thy  fight. 
Know,  if  thou  e'er  fhould'll  fee  the  bounds  of  light, 

(Unhappy  Florentine  !  attend  thy  doom !) 
The  Swarthy  Tribe  on  fair  Pistoia's  plain 
Shall  turn  the  day,  and  rally  once  again. 

And  colonize  once  more  their  native  home. 

which  they  executed  without  difcoverv,  and  depofited  their  fpoils 
in  the  houfe  of  one  of  their  confederates,  whofe  fair  charafter  they 
thought  would  prevent  a  fearch.  Next  morning  almofl;  all  the  fuf- 
pefted  perfons  in  Pistoia  were  put  to  the  torture:  ftill  however 
tiie  confederates  efcaped  ;  till  one  Rampirq,  an  intimate  friend  of 
Van  NO,  was  fentenced  to  the  rack  ;  and  his  friend,  in  order  to  fave 
him,  fent  an  anonymous  letter,  difcovering  where  the  fpoils  were 
depofited.  They  were  accordingly  found,  and  the  mafter  of  the 
houfe  was  committed  to  the  flames. 

Si.  xxiii.  /.  4.]  He  foretells  the  prevalency  of  the  Black  Faflion 
under  Charles  of  Valois,  and  the  banifhment  of  Dante.  Sec  Life 
of  Dante,— Hift.  Florent, 


[     298    ] 

XXIV. 

**  I  fee,  by  Mars  exhal'd,  an  hoflile  cloud 
The  tented  plain  of  Valdimagra  fhroud, 

And  fweep  Pic£no*s  field  with  whirlwind  fway ! 
See  !  where  the  Swarthy  Band  obfcures  the  field ! 
The  foe  inglorious  drops  the  filver  fhield  ; 

Go  to  thy  friends,  foretel  the  dreadful  day  \" 


£ND  OF  THE  TWENTY-FOURTH  CANTO. 


C   299  ] 


CANTO  THE  TWENTY-FIFTH. 


ARGUMENT. 

The  Poet  proceeds  thirough  the  Regions  of  Sacrilege  and 
Robbery,  where  he  meets  with  the  Spirit  of  Cacus,  and  fees 
fevcral  ilrange  Transformations  and  Tranfmigrations  among  four 
Florentines,  whom  he  finds  on  the  Frontiers  of  tlie  Regioa. 


OTERNLY  he  ceas'd,  with  execrations  dire ; 
And,  loud  blafpheming  Heav'n*s  Eternal  Sire, 

He  rais'd  his  ruffian  hands,  and  dar*d  his  wrath ! 
But  foon  a  fpiry  fnake  his  members  binds. 
Another  round  his  vocal  paflage  winds, 

And  flops  with  many  a  fold  the  felon's  breath. 

n. 

Ill-fam'd  PisToiA !  call  the  facred  flame 

From  Latian  plains  to  purge  thy  hated  name. 

And  fweep  away  thy  facrilegious  brood  : 
Afl'emble  round,  ye  fentenc'd  tribes  of  Hell ! 
Not  all  your  legions  holds  a  fiend  fo  fell ; 

Not  he,  whofe  pride  the  thund'ring  Pow*r  withflood ! 

m. 

He  fled  in  horror  o'er  the  burning  wafte. 
And  foon  a  Centaur,  form,  with  furious  hafle, 

FoUow'd 


C     3o<^     ] 

Follow'd  his  ti-ack.     Acrofs  his  fhoulders  broad, 
Where  the  fleet  courier  with  the  man  combinM, 
A  thoufand  warping  fnakes  their  volumes  twin*d. 

Such  as  Maremma's  plains  yet  never  fhow'd. 

IV. 
Full  on  his  neck  a  burning  dragon  borne. 
With  winnow*d  flames  opprefs'd  the  wretch  forlorn, 

Who  dar'd  the  whirlwind  of  his  wings  to  meet. 
**  Behold  the  Robber's  doom  (the  Mantuan  cry'd) 
Who  AvENTiNE*s  proud  hill  with  flaughter  dy*d. 

And  fiird  with  murd*rous  deeds  her  dark  retreat ! 

V. 
*'  He  ftems  the  coming  crowd  with  furious  fpeed, 
A  punifliment  to  match  his  \yiles  decreed  ; 

When  ftruggling  fleers,  with  more  than  mortal  force, 
Down  backward  to  his  bloody  cave  he  drew ; 
Revers'd  their  footfleps  mark'd  the  midnight  dew 

In  vain !  for  foon  Alcides  trac'd  their  courfe, 
VI. 
^'  The  Son  of  Jove  the  lurking  felon  found. 
And  foon  the  Hero  dealt  the  deadly  wound." 

The  Mantuan  ceasM,  the  Spedre  difappear'd. 
While  three  fad  Phantoms,  hov*ring  on  the  coafl. 
Were  feen,  like  Heralds  of  a  mighty  hoft, 

And  nnngled  cries,  and  hiflfes  ftrange,  were  heard  J 

^*  Your  names,  your  country  tell  !*'  the  foremofl  cry*d ; 
Lift'ning  the  Mantuan  flood,  nor  aught  reply'd ; 


L'i. 


St.  iv.  /.  4.J     Cacus,  the  famous  Robber.     See  Virgil,  B.  iii. 

'TiU 


[    301     ] 

'Till  fome  kind  chance  their  ftory  {hould  declare* 
At  length  a  voice  was  heard  ;  "  Cianfa,  come  ; 
Why  this  delay  to  confammate  our  doom  ?'* 

Silent  we  flood,  and  watch' d  the  mournful  Pair. 

viir. 

Nor  marvel,  ye  that  hear  the  wondrous  tale  ! 
If  doubts,  arifmg  oft,  your  minds  afTail ! 

Thofe  eyes,  that  faw  them,  fcarce  believ'd  the  fight : 
We  look*d  ;  and,  lo  !  on  oary  feet  fublime, 
A  burnilh*d  fnake  divides  the  dulky  clime. 

And  o'er  the  profpeQ:  gleams  a  tranfient  light. 

IX. 

Around  his  prey  we  faw  the  ferpent  wind, 
Inftant  his  curling  fpires  the  captive  bind ; 

At  once  deprived  of  motion  and  of  ftrength  : — 
The  fuppliant's  face  his  cruel  fangs  arreft. 
Huge,  fcaly  volumes  his  long  limbs  inveft. 

And  thro'  his  bowels  flioot  their  horrid  length. 

S(.  viii.  /.  5.]  This  flying  ferpent  was  Cianfa  (named  Stanza 
vii.),  a  Florentine  of  the  family  of  the  Donati  and  of  the 
Black  Faftion,  confequently  an  enemy  to  Dante.  What  his 
particular  crime  was,  is  unknown  ;  I  hope  Dante  does  not  facrificc 
him  merely  to  the  Spirit  of  Faction. ; — ^he  in  general  is  veiy  im- 
partial.— This  Vidlim  makes  up  the  number  of  the  four  Floren- 
tines, whofe  ftrange  transformations  and  tranfmigrations  are  here 
defcribed. — The  ViAim  whom  he  is  defcribed  as  winding  round  is 
Agnello,  of  the  family  of  Brunelleschi,  of  the  Black  Fac- 
tion too  ;  (fee  Machiavel,  Hift.  Flor.  lib.  ii.)  but  his  particular 
crime  is  alfo  unknown  to  all  the  Commentators  that  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  confulting  ;  nor  can  we  learn  what  event  the  Poet  alludtfs 
to  by  his  monftrous  eoalit'wn  with  Cianfa  (Stan.xiii,  xiv.). 


[      302      ] 

X. 

Thus  round  the  elm  the  wanton  ivy  flrays. 
And  o*er  the  boughs  in  long  meanders  plays. 

Yet  flill  diftinct,  their  native  hues  remain ; 
Not  fo  the  Stygian  Pair ;  their  colours  blend  :^ 
Each  feem*d  to  each  its  changing  form  to  lend. 

And  each  by  turns  to  feel  the  ftroke  of  pain. 

XL 

O'er  the  fair  parchment  thus  the  colours  fade, 
Deep-ting*d,  and  black'ning,  as  the  flames  invade 

Her  virgin-white  with  mingling  flain  fufFus'd. 
"  Ah  !  why  this  fatal  change,  Agnello,  fay  1'* 
(His  Fellow-fiends  exclaim'd,  with  pale  difinay) 

"  See  how  they  blend,  and  form  a  mafs  confus'd  !** 

XII. 

Inftant  as  thought,  their  wreathing  limbs  entwine. 
And  each  to  each  their  mingling  members  join, 

A  tow'ring  prodigy,  without  a  name  ! 
Unmatch'd  by  Fancy  in  her  airy  cell  1 
Unmatch'd  among  the  numerous  bands  of  Hell ! 

And  limbs  unequal  prop'd  the  monftrous  frame. 

xin. 

The  Giant-fpcdre  frown'd  with  hideous  grace. 
The  Man  and  Dragon  mingling  in  his  face, 

While  waving  pinions  clad  his  arms  anew : — 
Half  blended,  half  diftina,  he  fped  his  flight; 
Dreaded  and  {hunn*d  by  all  the  Race  of  Night, 

Where'er  his  ill-conforted  limbs  he  drew. 


C    3<^3    3 

XIV. 
Nor  long  at  gaze  his  fad  aflbciates  ftood : 
For,  lo !  a  burning  Afp,  athirfl  for  blood. 

The  foremoft  ftrikes,  and  thro'  his  heaving  fides, 
Piercing  he  pad,  with  long  continuous  wound ; 
Then  difentangling,  fhot  along  the  ground. 

And  o'er  the  plain  in  flow  meanders  glides. 
XV. 
The  Lizard  thus  infefls  the  public  way. 
When  raging  Sirius  fires  the  fervent  day, 

And,  like  a  meteor,  flits  acrofs  the  path  :— . 
The  vicHm  felt  the  agonizing  blow  ; 
Then  turning  faw,  amaz'd,  his  little  foe. 

That  feem'd  to  burn  with  unextinguifli'd  wrath. 

XVI. 

From  the  fmall  wound  a  vapour  feem'd  to  flow ; 
Replete  with  rage,  the  little  Afp,  below, 

A  correfponding  cloud  was  feen  to  fend. 
Each  with  malignant  look  his  foe  beheld. 
While  fumes  to  fumes  oppos'd,  their  forms  conceal'd. 

And  tortures  new  their  changing  limbs  difl:end. 

XVII. 
Sabellius  now  no  more  let  Afric  boafl:. 
Nor  Naso  mourn  his  Arethusa  loft, 

5/.  xvi. /.  2.]  The  Afp  was  Guerchio,  the  human  figure 
Buoso  Abbate,  bath  Florentines  of  the  Black  Faftion, 
doomed  here  to  change  alternately,  and  purfuc  each  other  in  dif- 
ferent fhapes  over  the  Infernal  plain.  Their  particular  crimes  are 
unknown. 

St.  xvii.  /.  1. — Sabellius.]  A  foldier  in  Cato's  army,  who 
is  defcribed  by  Luc  an  (lib.  ix.)  as  ftung  by  a  particular  kind  of 

Serpent, 


C  304  ] 

Or  fing  Acenor's  fon  in  fcales  array'd  *, 
Alternate  forms,  and  double  change  I  fing, 
Portentous  fcenes !  that  claim  a  louder  firing  j 

Scenes  never  yet  by  Fancy's  eye  furvey'd  ! 

XVIII. 

Trembling  and  pale  the  human  figure  flood. 
While  palfies  flrange  his  finking  limbs  fubdu'd  J 

ConvulsM,  at  length,  his  clofing  legs  entwine. 
While  the  finall  Afp,  erect,  in  burnifh'd  pride, 
Aflonifh'd  fees  her  fcaly  train  divide, 

AfTume  the  man,  and  all  the  fnake  refign. 

XIX. 

But  o'er  the  bending  wretch  the  Serpent  creeps. 
His  lefs*ning  limbs  the  fubtile  venom  fleeps, 

Contracts  his  joints,  and  bends  his  fpinal  flrength ! 
Soon  in  his  fides  his  fhort*ning  arms  are  lofl ; 
Groveling  and  prone,  he  falls  along  the  coafl. 

And  hurtling  fcales  invefl  his  dreadful  length. 

XX. 

Enlarged  by  jufl  degrees  the  Afpic  fwells, 
His  foft'ning  fldn  the  rigid  fcale  expels. 


Serpent,  and  inftantly  falling  into  allies. — Arethusa,  a  Nymph, 
clianged  into  a  Spring.  Ovid,  lib.  v.- — Cadmus,  changed  into  a 
ferpent.  Ditto,  lib.  vi. — Compare  the  dcfcription  of  the  change:^ 
with   Milton,  B.  x. — Puccio,  mentioned  here,  was   a  commoi* 
Robber ;  the  reft  were  all  of  noble  families,  and  fpoilers  of 
State. 

St.  xix.  /.  I.]     i.  e.  The  human  figure,  Buoso  Abatt. 

5  And 


And,  branching  into  arms,  his  fhoulders  fpread ; 
In  naked  majefty  ere£t  he  ftands. 
His  vile  aflbciate  licks  the  fable  fands, 

A  reptile  prone,  and  bows  the  humble  head, 
XXI. 
The  Fiends  alternate  thus  their  fhape  difown^ 
(Their  dark  malignant  look  unchang'd  alone) 

The  form  ere£t  aflumes  an  ampler  face, 
Auguft  and  broad  his  manly  temples  rife. 
His  little  ears  expand,  his  trembling  eyes 

Enlarge,  and  noflrils  fill  the  middle  fpace* 
XXII. 
The  Serpent,  late  a  man,  in  deep  defpair. 
Feels  his  fad  vifage  drawn  to  fliarp  and  fpare. 

His  head  prolonged,  his  clofing  eyes  retir*d  5 
His  parting  tongue  denies  its  ufual  aid, 
Dejefted,  dumb,  he  feels  his  pow*rs  betray'd. 

And  hears  his  foe  with  fudden  fpeech  infpir*d* 
XXIII. 
At  length  the  fumes  difperfe,  the  fnake  retreats. 
While  following  faft  his  proud  affoclate  threats  ; 

"  Abbate!  march !"  he  cry'd,  "  and  feel  the  doom. 
The  rigid  doom,  which  many  a  year  I  bore. 
Laborious  winding  round  the  fandy  fhore, 

'Till  late  I  durfl  the  human  form  aflume." 

XXIV. 
.Such,  old  Zavorra  !  fuch  thy  wondrous  law ! 
Where,  change  fucceeding  change,  amaz'd  I  faw 

St.  xxii.  /.  4.3  Alluding  to  the  vulgar  error,  that  the  ferpent*a 
tongue  is  forked. 

St.  xxiv.  /.  i.|]  Zavorra,  one  of  the  Regions  of  Fraud. 

Vol..  I.  X                       portentous 


Portentous  Icenes !  unknown  to  modem  faith ! 
Yet  Puccio  ftiil  difown'd  her  magic  pow*r ; 
Ere£l:,  unchang'd,  I  faw  the  felon  tow'r. 

While  foul  Abbate  crept  along  the  path* 
XXV. 
The  Form  that  chas'd  the  Serpent  o'er  the  plain. 
Was  Cavalcanti*s  Shade,  untimely  flain ; 

Ev'n  yet  Gavillus'  bounds  his  death  deplore. 
Where  burning  with  revenge  and  factious  hate, 
His  cruel  friends  repaid  their  kinfman*s  fate. 

With  walling  fire,  and  floods  of  Tuscan  gore. 

Si.  XXV.  /.  2.]  He  was  flain  at  Gavilla,  in  the  Valdamo,  and 
his  death  was  cruelly  revenged  by  his  faftion,  who  killed  the  pea- 
fants,  and  wafted  the  whole  country  with  fire  and  fword. 

OC/*  The  Punifliments  in  the  foregoing  Canto,  are  of  a  fingulaf 
caft,  and  not  eaCly  accounted  for  by  any  analogy  to  the  charafter 
of  the  Criminals  here  defcribed.  We  may  indeed  fuppofe  the 
miferj'  of  the  fraudulent  to  confift  in  their  dread  of  circumvention, 
as  they  naturally  judge  of  others'  charaAer  by  their  own,  and  are 
thence  precipitated  upon  atrocious  meafures,  which,  without  this 
fufpicion,  they  would  not  have  attempted.  This  contemplation  of 
their  own  charaifter,  (by  reflexion, )  in  the  opinion  they  hold  of 
tDthers,  may  pofGbly  bear  fome  refemblancc  to  the  Poet's  defcription 
of  their  ftrange  encounters  and  tranfmutations. — See  the  charaftcp 
of  CssAR  Borgia  in  Machiatel.  There  is  in  Holwell'sIsdia 
Tracts,  a  ftory  of  two  Gentoo  chiefs,  which  illuftrates  this 
charafter.  One  of  them  fujpeding  the  other  of  a  defign  to  aflaflinate 
him,  refolved  to  anticipate  him;  and,  as  they  were  on  amicable 
terms,  the  former  invited  the  latter  to  an  entertainment  in  hts 
Pavilion,  which  he  contrived  to  have  blown  up  with  gunpowder, 
having  previoufly,  on  fome  pretext,  abfented  himfelf  at  the  critical 
tainute,  which  he  knew  by  a  concerted  fignal. 

END   OF   THE   TWENTY-FIFTH    CANTO. 


C    Z07    ] 


CANTO   THE    TWENTY- SIXTH* 


ARGUMENT. 

Leaving  the  Regions  of  Sacrilege,  the  Poets  are  introduced  to  the 
Lot  of  thofe  who  were  endowed  with  uncommon  Talents  which 
they  had  perverted  to  the  purpofes  of  Deceit  and  Perfidy. — 
Among  the  moll  confpicuous  Figures,  he  finds  Diomede  and 
Ulysses  ;  from  the  latter  of  whom  he  learns  the  Story  of  his 
Voyage  to  the  Atlantic,  and  the  Circumftances  of  his 
Death. 


r  LORENCE,  all  hall !  thy  glorious  name  refounds 
0*er  land  and  fea,  and  thro'  the  Stygian  bounds  ; 

The  five  bold  brethren  chaunt  thy  praife  below. 
For  facrilege  renowned,  and  moonlight  fpoil, 
Such  fons,  alas !  thy  honoured  name  defile. 

And  fligmatize  with  fhame  my  burning  brow. 

IL 

If  morning  vifions  fhew  thy  coming  fate, 
Heav'n's  vengeance  overhangs  my  parent  ftate, 

5^  i. /.  3.]  CiANFA,  Agnello,  Guerchio  Cavalcanti, 
Buoso  Abbati,  (the  firfb  a  Guelf,  the  others  Ghibellines,)  and 
Puccio  ScANCiATO,  all  mentioned  in  the  laft  Canto. 

X  z  And 


And  glad  Etruria  hails  the  doomful  day  : 
While  ills  on  ills  fucceed,  a  num'rous  train, 
And  mark  my  fad  declining  days  with  pain. 

When  grief  and  time  have  wov*n  my  locks  with  gray! 

m. 

Now  rifted  rocks  Impede  the  aang'rous  path. 
Yet  flill  I  follow' d  thro*  the  walks  of  death. 

And  climb'd  with  heart  of  proof  the  adverfe  fteep.. 
But,  oh  !  what  fccnes  amaz'd  my  ftartled  fight. 
Portentous  gleaming  thro'  the  wafte  of  night, 

And  fentenc'd  fouls  whofe  torments  dill  I  weep ! 

IV. 

Here  millions  mourn  their  talents  mifapply'd ; 
Celeflial  grace  !  the  dang'rous  talent  guide. 

And  ftill  in  virtue's  caufe  employ  my  fong  ! 
Unhappy  he  !  that  leads  the  Mufe  aflray. 
And  proftitutes  the  Heav'n-commiflion  d  lay. 

From  virtue's  road  to  lure  the  heedlefs  throng  ! 

St.  ii.  /.  4.3  The  Poet  here  alludes  to  two  dreadful  cala^l^tic» 
which  happened  in  Florence  in  his  time,  as  if  they  were  yet  to 
come.  In  the  year  1304,  Scenical  Reprefentations  were  already 
in  high  repute  at  Florence.  A  noftumal  fpeftacle  of  this  fort, 
which  reprefanted  the  torments  of  the  damned,  was  fhewn  in  a  fort 
of  wooden  theatre  on  the  river  Arno,  The  conconrfe  was  fo 
great,  that  the  temporary  wooden  bridges  gave  way,  and  a  vaft 
multitude  was  drowned  j  and  fuch  was  the  mutual  hatred  of  the 
two  faftions,  that  each  exultingly  remarked  of  thofe  of  the  oppo- 
Cte  party  who  were  killed,  that  they  had  made  a  tranfition  from  a 
fancied,  to  a  real  fcene  of  tonnent. — Some  years  after,  Florencr 
was  almoft  depopulated  by  that  peftilence  fo  beautifully  defcribcd 
by  EoccACiO)  ia  his  latrodudioa  to  the  Decamerone* 


I 


[    3^9    ] 

V. 

As  when  the  fwain,  reclin'd  beneath  the  fhade, 
Beholds  the  glow-worm  train  illume  the  glade. 

And  fpangling  myriads  gleam  along  the  vale : 
While  ev'ning  flumbers  o*er  Ker  fhadowy  reign, 
sAnd,  borne  on  Summer  wing,  acrofs  the  plain, 

In  twilight  bands,  the  droning  beetles  fail. 

VI. 

Thus,  diftant  far,  the  peopled  gulph  below, 
Difgorg'd,  at  many  a  vent,  her  (lores  of  woe ; 

And  ev'ry  flame  involv'd  a  wretch  from  view. 
Deep  wreathing  fmoke  the  grizzly  Phantom  veil'd. 
As  when  of  old,  in  thund'rous  clouds  concealM, 

And  rap'd  by  fiery  fleeds,  Elias  flew. 

VII. 

Gazing  the  ample  fky,  his  Pupil  ftood. 

When  up  the  fleep  of  Heav'n  the  triumph  rode. 

And  like  a  kindling  glory  fped  along. 
Thus  ever  courfmg  round  the  difmal  goal. 
Each  fiery  column  bore  a  fentenc'd  foul. 

And  fmoky  whirlwinds  hid  the  captive  throng, 

vm. 

To  the  high  mould*ring  arch  I  clung  fublime. 
Viewing  the  horrors  of  the  Stygian  clime : 

"  Behold  yon  countlefs  fires,"  the  Mantuan  cry'd, 
'*  Each  fpiral  flame  a  criminal  contains, 
And  wraps  the  vidim  round  in  viewlefs  chains. 

See !  how  they  fhrink,  and  ftrivc  their  woes  to  hide.''* 

St.v'iu  1. 1.]     Elisha.     See  2  Kings,  cliap.ii. 

X3 


[    3IO    ] 

IX. 

'*  I  fee,  illuflrious  Bard  !  the  growing  plague ; 
I  fee  the  vale  diflind  for  many  a  league, 

With  walking  fires,  refleding  blaze  on  blaze ! 
Now  hither,  one  its  double  fummit  bends ; 
Say,  whence  the  deep-engender'd  blafl  afcends. 

That  parts  the  flame,  and  blows  it  different  ways  ? 

X. 
**  Perhaps,  the  brethren  of  Boeotia*s  ftate 
In  hoftile  flames  renew  their  ancient  hate  :" 

I  fpoke — ^The  Bard  return'd,  "  Tydides  there, 
With  old  Laertes'  fon,  in  fraud  combin'dj 
For  ever  mourn  in  flaming  fetters  join'd. 

In  Earth  and  Hell,  an  undivided  pair ! 

St.  X.  /.  I.]  PoLVNicES  and  Eteocles,  the  rival  Kings  of 
Thebes,  who  fell  by  mutual  wounds;  and  according  to  poetical 
hiftory,  when  their  bodies  were  laid  on  the  fame  funeral  pile,  the 
flames  divided.  Sec  Stat i us,  Tbeb.  lib.  xii.  This  the  Poet  here 
alludes  to,  when  he  fees  the  fouls  of  Ulysses  and  Diomede, 
confined  in  the  fame  fiery  column,  divided  above.  The  reafon  of 
Diomede's  fentence  does  not  appear.  The  condemnation  of  Ulys- 
ses is  founded  upon  his  falfe  accufation  of  Palamepes,  who, 
when  Ulysses  pretended  madnefs  to  excufe  himfelf  from  going  to 
the  fiege  of  Troy,  detefted  him  by  the  following  ftratagem  :  Tn 
a  feeming  lunacy,  where  Ulysses  was  employed  in  ploughing  the 
ground,  and  fowing  it  with  fait,  Palamedes  took  Telemachus, 
then  an  infant,  and  laid  him  in  his  way.  The  father  immediately 
turned  the  plough  afidc,  and  on  this  proof  of  his  fanity,  was  com- 
pelled to  engage  in  the  expedition.  For  this,  Ulysses  vowed 
vengeance  againft  Palamedes,  and  accufed  him  of  a  treafonablc 
correfpondence  with  the  enemy,  having  produced  a  fum  of  money 
pn  the  trial,  which  he  himfelf  had  found  means  to  hide  in  Pala- 
MEDEs's  tent.  The  ftory  of  his  detefting  Achilles,  (who  was 
difguifed  in  a  female  dref?,)  by  (hewing  him  a  fuit  of  armour,  it 
well  known,  and  beautifully  told  by  Statius,  Achilles,  lib.ii. 


C    3"    3 

XI. 

**  Now  boaft  below  your  deadly  ambufcade, 
The  fatal  fteed,  and  Ilion*s  town  betray'd  ; 

You  fent  her  exiles  to  an  happier  fhore  ! 
Fair  Deidamias'  woes,  Achilles*  flight. 
The  fraudful  deed  that  maflv'd  the  difmal  night, 

And  Palamedes'  fate  in  flames  deplore." 

XII. 

Then,  fuppliant,  thus  I  pray'd — "  If  giv*n  by  fate. 
In  yon'  eternal  burnings  to  relate 

Their  fortunes  and  their  crimes,  the  moment  feize. 
While,  fix'd  on  yonder  point,  the  hov'ring  flame. 
Dividing  clear,  your  notice  feems  to  claim. 

And  friendly  fate  a  little  fpace  decrees." 

XIII. 

*'  Thy  pray'r  is  heard,"  retum'd  the  gentle  Shade, 
*'  Think  not  thy  pious  wifli  by  me  delay*d ; 

But  hear  in  filence,  left  with  fudden  flight 
The  wayward  Phantoms  fliun  thy  barb'rous  fpeech. 
Untaught  the  fmooth  Ionian  fl:rain  to  reach. 

And  let  my  well-known  voice  prevent  their  flight." 

XIV. 
Now  circling  to  our  ftand  the  Phantoms  came. 
And  thus  the  Bard  addrefsM  the  double  flame  : 

St.  xiii.  /.  5.]  We  find  by  this,  that  Dante  had  not  learnt 
Greek,  as  we  find  Virgil  afraid  left  the  Grecian  Speftresfhould 
be  frighted  with  the  barbaroas  accents  of  the  Lingua  Vol g are. 
pven  Petrarch  did  not  acquire  this  language  till  his  old  age.— 
See  Mem.  Pet&arque. 

X  4  *'  Ye 


C   312   ] 

**  Ye  fouls,  condemnM  in  kindred  fires  to  mourn,. 
If  e'er  your  names  adom*d  my  lofty  lays. 
If  ev*n  in  Hell  you  boaft  the  Mantuan's  praife, 

Oh,  fay  !  why  fentenc'd  thus  you  roam  forlorn  ?" 

XV. 

The  broader  fpire  with  double  fury  bum'd, 

And  round  with  whirlwind  fpeed  convulfive  turn'd. 

As  fome  defcending  blaft  his  rage  awoke  ; 
Aloft  the  trembling  top  fantaftic  play'd. 
The  wondrous  organ  foon  the  blaft  obey *d, 

And  thus  in  fighs  the  horrid  filence  broke : 

XVI. 

"  Ye  wand'ring  Shades !  Laertes'  fon  behold. 
Who  left  the  lov'd  Circ^an  bow'rs  of  old. 

Ere  good  ^neas  blefs'd  Caieta's  fhore ! 
Yet,  after  all  my  toils,  nor  aged  fire. 
Nor  fon,  nor  fpoufe,  could  check  the  wild  defire 

Again  to  tempt  the  fea,  with  vent'rous  oar, 

xvn. 

**  In  fearch  of  fame  I  meafur'd  various  climes. 
Still  vers'd  in  deeper  frauds  and  namelefs  crimes. 

With  {lender  band,  and  folitary  fail, 
I  circled  round  the  Celtiberian  ftrand  : 
I  faw  the  Sardian  cliffs,  Morocco's  land. 

And  pafs'd  Alcides'  ftraits  with  fteady  gale. 

St.  xvii.  /.  1.3  The  Poet  here  fcems  to  have  confidered  Ulys- 
ses in  his  latier  expeditions  as  a  Pirate.  That  this  was  a  common 
occupation  pf  the  ancient  Greeks,  appears  from  Homer's  OdyfleVj 
)ib,  ii*  Thucydides,  lib.  i<  ad  iniu 


r  313  3 

XVIII. 

^*  The  broad  Atlantic  firfl  my  keel  imprefs*d, 
I  faw  the  finking  barriers  of  the  weft. 

And  boldly  thus  addrefs'd  my  hardy  crew : 
"  While  yet  your  blood  is  warm,  my  gallant  train. 
Explore  with  me  the  perils  of  the  main. 

And  find  new  worlds  unknown  to  mortal  view. 

XIX. 

**  Recall  your  glorious  toils,  your  lofty  birth. 
Nor  like  the  grov'ling  herds,  ally*d  to  earth. 

No  bafe  defpondence  quit  your  lofty  claim.** 
They  heard,  and  thro'  th'  unconquerable  band 
My  potent  words  the  living  ardor  fann'd. 

And  inftant  breath'd  around  the  fervent  flamcw 

XX. 

"  With  meafur'd  ftroke  the  whitening  furge  they  fweep, 
'Till  ev*ry  well-known  flar  beneath  the  deep 

Declin'd  his  radiant  head ;  and  o'er  the  iky 
A  beamy  fquadron  rofe,  of  name  unknown, 
Antarctic  glories  deck'd  the  burning  zone 

Of  night,  and  fouthern  fires  falute  the  eye. 

XXI. 

*'  Now  five  fucceflive  moons  with  borrow'd  light 
Had  filver'd  o'er  the  fober  face  of  night. 

Since  firft  the  weftern  furge  receiv'd  our  prow: 
At  length  a  diftant  ifle  was  feen  to  rife, 
Obfcure  at  firft,  and  mingling  with  the  fkies. 

Till  nearer  feen,  its  fhores  began  to  grow. 


t    3'4    ] 

XXII. 
•'  A  mountain  rofe  fublime  above  the  coaft, 
Immeafurably  tall,  in  vapours  lofl: ; 

Where  hurricanes  for  ever  howl  around. 
Curs'd  be  the  day  I  faw  the  difmal  fhore ! 
Accurfl;  the  rending  fail  and  faithlefs  oar ! 

And  curs'd  myfelf  that  pafs'd  the  fatal  bound  ! 

XXIII. 
**  Trembling  I  faw  the  Heav'n-commiflionM  blaft 
The  canvas  tear,  and  bend  the  groaning  maft ; 

In  vain  we  toil*d  the  ruin  to  prevent : 
Thrice  round  and  round  the  foundering  vefTel  rides. 
The  op'ning  plank  receivM  the  rufhing  tides. 

And  me  and  mine  to  quick  perdition  fent !" 

St.  xxii.  /.  1.3     Probably  Teneriffe. 


END   OF    THE    TWENTY-SIXTH    CANTO. 


C    3^5    ] 


x:anto  the  twenty- seventh. 


ARGUMENT. 
The  Poet  continues  to  defcribe  the  Punilhment  of  fuch  as  had 
abufed  their  Talents.  After  Ulvsses  finifhes  his  Tale,  he  meets 
the  Spirit  of  Count  GuiDO  de  Montefeltro,  who  relates  at 
large  the  Hiftory  of  his  Crimes,  his  Converfion,  and  Relapfe. 


Jl5uT  now  the  trembling  fummit  play'd  no  more. 
The  wondrous  organ  gave  its  office  o'er, 

And,  fighing,  funk  in  circling  vapours  loft ; 
And  foon  a  third,  involv'd  in  fiery  fume. 
Like  a  fad  Spirit  in  a  difmal  tomb. 

With  fmother'd  groans  approach'd  our  lofty  poft. 

II. 

Pent  in  the  brazen  bull,  a  fcorching  grave. 
The  fad  Sicilian  thus  was  heard  to  rave. 

And  hideous  bellowings  fill'd  the  region  rounds 
No  lefs  in  vain  the  prifon*d  Spirit  tries. 
In  many  a  low  complaint  his  feeble  voice. 

The  tyrant  flame  opprefs*d  the  plaintive  found. 

St.vi.  I.  2."]  An  allufion  to  the  well-known  Story  of  the  famous 
Perillus,  of  Sicily,  and  his  brazen  Bull,  which  he  invented  as 
an  inftrument  of  torture,  where  Criminals  were  enclofed  after  it  was 
made  red-hot :  but  the  Tyrant  PHALARisis  faid  to  have  made  the 
firft  experiment  upon  the  Inventor  himfelf. 


C   316   ] 

III. 

At  laft  the  blaze  divides,  and,  breath'd  in  pain, 
Forth  from  the  fummit  broke  an  hideous  ftrain. 

In  founds  confus'd.     But  foon  tlie  quiv'ring  flam^ 
Form'd  the  flrange  mufic  to  the  mortal  ear ! 
In  wondrous  words,  articulate  and  clear. 

And,  mix'd  with  fobs,  the  difmal  accents  came  f 

IV. 

*'  Sweet  is  the  dialed  of  Arno's  vale ! 
Hail,  native  tongue !  congenial  fpirits,  hail ! 

Still,  in  the  ihades  below.  Remembrance  keeps 
The  mournful  image  of  her  ancient  joys  : 
Still  on  the  fadly-pleafmg  tafk  employs, 

Her^fettled  thoughts,  and  o*er  the  picture  weeps. 

V. 

"  Thd*  half-confum'd,  I  gladly  ftand  to  hear 
The  found,  nor  thou  difdain  to  blefs  mine  ear ! 

But,  oh !  if  late  you  left  the  Tuscan  plain. 
Perhaps  Romagna*s  fate  to  thee  is  known  ; 
Where  from  Old  Appennine,  in  fury  thrown. 

The  ftream  divides  Urbino's  rich  domain.** 

VI. 

Silent  1  flood  ;  when  thus  the  Mantuan  Shade  : — 
*'  Hear'ft  thou  thy  native  tongue !  then  why  difmay'd  ? 

Why  doubtful  thus,  to  meet  a  wretch  forlorn  ?" 
Abaih'd  I  tum'd,  and  thus  the  Soul  addrefs'd  ; — 
"  Still  thy  RoMAGNA  mourns,  unknown  to  reft. 

By  foul  inteftine  broils  for  ever  torn. 

Si.  vi.  /.  5.]  The  I\,Jn^e,  in  anfwer  to  Count  Guido,  tells 
firll  the  condition  of  the  Romagna  in  general ;  and  then  (in  the 
fucceeding  Stanzas)  of  each  diftrid  in  particular. 


C  317   3 

VII. 
*'  Awhile  the  whirlwind  finks  In  grim  repofe  ; 
But  Difcord  foon  her  Stygian  bugle  blows, 

And  breaks  the  flender  bands  of  plighted  faith : 
Ravenna  fleeps  beneath  Polenta's  wing. 
Under  his  blooming  boughs  the  fhepherds  fmg. 

And  fcom  the  bloody  Gaul*s  interap*rate  wrath. 
VIII. 
"  Still  FoRLi  owns  her  Siniboldo's  fway ; 
When  GuiDo's  prowefs  tum'd  the  doubtful  day, 

V^here  Gallia  fled  and  dropt  the  Eilied  fhield, 
Verucchio's  bloodhounds  flill  their  ftation  keep  ; 
Beneath  their  fway  the  fubje£t  valleys  weep, 

And  fun*ral  trophies  fadden  all  the  field. 

,  5/.  vii. /.  4. — Polenta.]  Lord  of  Ravenna,  the  generous  Pa- 
tron of  Dante,  and  a  Ghibelline.  He  was  father  to  the  unfor- 
tunate Francesca.     See  Canto  V. 

St.  viii.  /.  1. — FoRLi.]  A  city  in  Romagna,  which  had 
efpoufed  the  Emperor's  and  the  Ghibelline  fa£lion.  In  the  year 
1282,  it  was  befieged  by  an  army  of  Papal  French,  brought  by 
Martin  IV.  (a  Frenchman)  into  Italy,  and  reduced  to  the  greateft 
extremity.  The  Governor,  Montefeltro,  agreed  to  admit  a 
detachment  of  the  befiegers  at  a  poftem,  on  a  concerted  fignal,  on 
the  fole  condition  of  fparing  the  lives  of  the  garrifon.  The  French, 
at  the  appointed  hour,  fent  a  detachment  of  cavalry,  forced  the 
gate,  and  inllantly  fell  to  plundering.  Count  GuiDo,  the  Go- 
vernor, in  the  mean  time,  had  faUied  out  of  another  gate,  with  a 
feleft  party,  and  coming  with  a  circuit  on  the  French  infantry,  cut 
them  to  pieces  ;  then  he  returned  to  the  city,  and  found  the  French 
ftill  plundering.  They  were  difmounted  and  unaccoutred  ;  and  the 
inhabitants  having  fecreted  their  faddles  and  bridles,  they  attempted 
to  fight  their  way  on  foot,  and  were  all  exterminated  to  a  man. — 
ViLLANi,  lib.  vii. 

St,  viii.  /.  4. — ^Verucchio's  bloodhounds'}  The  Maletestas, 
6  father 


C    3'8    ] 

IX. 
•*  FaenZA  owns  her  temporifing  Lord, 
Thence  o*er  Imola  fpreads  her  fway  abhorr'd ; 

But  fair  Cesena*s  line,  to  freedom  true. 
Still  vindicates  in  arms  her  humble  reign : — 
Now,  Captive,  like  the  reft !  thy  doom  explain. 

And  tell  wliat  crimes  thy  fentencM  foul  purfue  ?'* 


father  and  fon,  tyrants  of  Rimini.  The  younger  Lanciotto  was  he 
that  married  Francefca,  daughter  of  Polenta,  who  was  in  love  with 
tis  brother,,  and  facrificed  her  to  his  jealoufy.     See  Canto  V. 

Sf.  ix.  /.  I. — Faenza.]  Where  Mainardo  Pagani  ruled,  who 
changed  from  the  Guelfs  to  the  Ghibellines,  as  fuited  his  in- 
tereft. 

St.  ix.  /.  5.]     This  puts  us  in  mind  of  the  fublime  addrefs  of 
OJin,  to  the  Prophet efs  in  The  Defcent  of  Odin,  by  Gray  : 
Tliou  the  deeds  of  light  (halt  know. 
Tell  me  what  is  done  below. 

Dante  is  fuppofed  not  to  have  known  the  Spirit  of  Count 
GuiDo  on  his  firft.  addrefs,  when  the  Poet  extols  his  gallant  beha- 
viour at  Forli  (Stanza  viii.).  By  this  affair,  Guido  rofe  to  the 
fummit  of  military  fame,  but  foon  ftained  his  charadler  by  an  open 
contempt  of  the  moft  folemn  engagements,  when  a  breach  of  them 
gained  him  any  advantage  over  his  enemies.  A  fit  of  ficknefs, 
however,  was  fucceeded  by  a  fit  of  repentance ;  he  refolved  to 
withdraw  from  the  world,  and  aftually  took  the  Francifcan  habit. 
But  Boniface  VIII.  (the  Pharifaean  Lord)  perfuaded  him  to 
break  his  vow  on  the  following  occafion  : 

The  States  of  Italy,  after  the  death  of  Frederic  II.  when 
the  power  of  the  Emperor  was  reduced  to  a  fhadow  in  Italy,  ftill 
kept  the  name  of  Ghibellines,  to  preferve  their  hberty  againft 
the  Popes,  who  headed  the  Guelfs.  The  Emperor  had  little  or 
no  power  in  Italy,  when  Count  Guido,  in  his  name,  made  fo  gal- 
lant a  defence  at  Forli.  The  power  of  the  Popes  was  little  more; 
they  had  loft  all  the  territories  that  the  Countefs  Matilda  had 

bequeathed 


C   319   3 

X. 

Now  ftronger  fighs  the  quiv*ring  fummit  fent  j 
At  laft  the  fmother'd  language  found  a  vent 

Diftinft  and  loud : — "  Thy  rig*rous  doom  (he  cry'd; 
Firm  as  the  word  of  fate  fecures  my  fame, 
As  hence  no  tell-tale  goes  to  fpread  my  fhame, 

Elfe  were  thy  ralh  untimely  pray'r  deny'd. 


bequeathed  to  Gregory  VII. ;  and  the  feudal  Lords,  in  the  very- 
neighbourhood  of  Rome,  aflerted  their  privileges,  and  endeavoured 
to  curb  the  Papal  prerogative.  Cardinal  Caietan  had  perfuaded 
Celestin  V.  to  refign  the  papacy  (fee  Canto  III.),  and  fucceeded 
him  by  the  name  of  Boniface  VIII.  The  two  Cardinals  of  the 
noble  family  of  Colonna  objedted  both  to  the  refignation  and  fuc- 
ceflion,  as  irregular  and  uncanonical.  They  pubhfhed  a  Manifefto 
to  this  purpofe.  Boniface,  the  moft  vindiftive  of  men,  fum- 
moned  the  two  Cardinals  to  appear  before  him.  They  difobeyed  ; 
and  he,  without  any  further  ceremony,  excommunicated  them. — 
Not  content  with  the  fulminations  of  the  Church,  he  inftigated  their 
old  rivals,  the  Orsini  family,  to  declare  war  againft  them;  and, 
joining  his  arms  to  thofe  of  his  new  allies,  publiflied  a  crufade  againft 
the  whole  family. 

The  CoLONNAS,  unable  to  withftand  fo  powerful  a  confederacy, 
•were  ftripped  of  their  fbrtreffes  one  after  another,  till,  as  their  laft 
refort,  they  were  fliut  up  at  Paleftrina,  (the  old  Prenefle,)  then 
deemed  impregnable.  It  was  then  the  Pope  enticed  Count  GulDO 
out  of  his  cloifter,  in  order  to  avail  himfelf  of  his  talent  for  ftra- 
tagem.  He  gave  the  Pope  that  celebrated  adieu,  "  Be  liberal  of 
your  promifes,  but  frugal  of  your  performances."  In  confequence 
of  which,  Boniface  propofed  a  reconciliation  with  the  Colon- 
KAS,  on  which  they  opened  their  gates :  but  immediately  he  broke 
his  engagement,  razed  Paleftrina  to  the  ground,  burned  their  caftles, 
confifcated  their  eftates,  and  drove  their  whole  family  into  exile. 
Sciarra  Colonna,  one  of  the  brothers,  was  obliged  to  live  on 
wild  fruits  in  the  woods  of  Ardea  :  Then  emt^aiking  on  board  a 

yeffel. 


C   320   3 

XI. 

"  But,  fince  tlie  Stygian  Bar  prevents  thy  flight, 
Condemn'd  to  linger  here  in  endlefs  night, 

Liflen,  fad  Soul !  to  Montefeltro*s  tale.— 
Sick  of  the  world,  I  heard  the  faintly  call, 
Forfook  the  marfhall'd  field,  the  feflive  hall, 

And  chang*d  the  din  of  arms  for  vigils  pale, 

XII. 

*'  With  holy  tears  my  countlefs  fins  I  waird, 
Till  Heirs-commiffion*d  Pried  my  foul  aifaird  ; 

(Hell !  with  thy  chofen  plagues,  his  foul  purfue  !) 
My  fouled:  crimes  the  vile  impoflor  purg*d  ; 
Then,  with  peculiar  fraud,  his  pupil  urg'd. 

To  aid  his  fchemes  with  guilt  of  deeper  hue  ! 


vcflel,  he  was  taken  by  pirate*,  and  retaken  by  Philip  the  Fair, 
King  of  France,  who,  being  engaged  in  a  war  with  the  Pope, 
(on  account  of  a  fubfidy  from  the  Clerg)',  which  Philip  wanted 
for  his  own  occafions,  and  the  Pope  for  a  pretended  crufade,)  fent 
CoLONNA  privately  to  Italy  ;  who,  raifing  a  fmall  body  of  men, 
joined  Nog  A  RET,  the  French  General;  furprifed  the  Pope  at 
Anagni,  his  native  town,  and  plundered  his  palace  :  but  as  they 
•were  carrying  him  off  in  triumph,  the  people  of  the  town  perceiv- 
ing thefmallnefs  of  their  numbers,  rofe  upon  them,  drove  them  out 
of  the  precindls,  and  refcued  the  Pontiff.  He,  however,  died  fooa 
after ;  and  it  was  proved  after  his  death,  that  he  had  faid,  "  how 
profitable  is  this  fable  of  Jefus  Chrift  to  us  !" — ^Villani,  lib.vii,viii, 
Memoires  de  Petrarque,  vol.  i.  page  t02. 

Another  well-founded  charge  that  appeared  after  his  death,  was, 
that  he  had  privately  put  Celestin  to  death  in  prifon;  for,  dur- 
ing his  hfe,  Boniface  was  looked  upoo  by  all  good  Catholics  ^ 
.#aly  an  ufurper. 


t      321      ] 

XIIL 
*'  From  earlleft  youth  I  fhun'd  the  lion  Law, 
Contented,  with  the  wily  fox,  to  draw 

The  heedlefs  foe  within  my  fatal  fnare : 
Fraud  was  my  fame,  and  circumvention  deep  ; 
'Till  Confcience,  waking  from  her  iron  fleep, 

Difpeird  at  once  my  boalled  fchemes  in  air ! 

XIV. 
*'  With  inward  eye  my  fpotted  fout  I  view'd. 
And  ev'ry  ftain  with  hallowM  tears  bedew'd ; 

Their  fwelling  fails  my  finking  paffions  furlM  !- 
The  backward  courfe  I  trod  with  pious  halle. 
But  foon  the  Papal  hand  my  fears  effacM, 

And  led  me  forth  to  join  the  buftling  world. 

XV. 

*'  With  fhamelefs  front  the  Pharis^ean  Lord 
Had  flung  away  the  keys,  and  drawn  the  fword : 

Nor  Saracen,  nor  Jew,  his  prowefs  fear'd ; 
Nor  Ac  Ron's  hardy  band,  nor  Soldan  fell, 
Colonna's  name  alone  he  burnt  to  quell, 

(A  cruel  foe !)  nor  God,  nor  Man  rever'd ! 

xvr. 

*'  The  faintly  garb  preferv'd  my  foul  in  vdin. 
My  fafts,  my  hairy  gown,  and  girding  cham ! — 

Not  royal  Constantine  more  warmly  pray'd 
The  healing  boon  of  old  Sylvester's  hand. 
Than  He,  to  lure  me  from  the  peaceful  Hand, 

And  to  his  bloody  fchemes  fecure  my  aid.'* 

Si.  XV.  /.  I — Pharisxan  Lord]     Boniface  VIII, 

.    Vol.  L  Y 


xvir. 

He  faw  my  doubts,  and  thus  enforc'd  his  plea : 
*'  See,  and  adore  this  Hcav'n-difclofmg  key ! 

*'  I  fpeak — and,  lo  !  thy  fins  are  loft  in  air ! 
**  Then  with  thy  counfel  aid  my  levy'd  pow*rs, 
*'  To  whelm  the  pride  of  Palest rina*s  tow*rs, 

"  For  now  no  timid  Hermit  fills  the  chair." 

xvm. 

Trembling,  irrefolute,  and  dumb  I  ftood ; 
The  ftrong  dilemma  froze  my  curdling  blood. 

To  fink  my  foul,  or  meet  the  Prelate's  wrath  : 
At  laft.  Damnation  won. — "  Advance,"  I  cry*d, 
*'  With  folemn  oaths  thy  deep  intentions  hide ; 

"  Promife  at  large — but  fcorn  to  keep  thy  faith." 

XIX. 

Soon  I  expir'd — and  holy  Francis  came. 
My  Patron  Saint !  in  vain  my  foul  to  claim ; 

A  fwarthy  Plaintiff  drove  him  from  his  poft, : 
**  What,  Hermit!  would  you  wrong  the  pow'rs below  ?" 
The  Demon  cry'd,  "  your  Profelyte  muft  go, 

*'  And  march  in  flames  around  the  Stygian  coaft. 

XX. 

"  Since  firft  the  fage  advice  his  foul  betray'd, 
*'  His  fteps  I  followed,  faithful  as  his  Shade, 

"  And  mark'd  him  for  the  Fiends,  an  eafy  prey  : 
*'  Nor  plead  the  abfolving  hand,  for  nought  avails 
"  The  potent  charm,  when  long  repentance  fails, 

'*  And  Txcw  pollutions  drive  the  fpell  away." 

St.  xvii.  /.  6. — timU  Hermit.']    Such  as  Celestiue  V.  had  been? 
■whom  he  had  perfuaded  to  abdicate. 


C    323    ] 

XXI. 
At  once  his  fiery  gripe  my  limbs  embrac'd ; 
*'  Come !  if  th'  infernal  Logic  fuits  thy  tafle, 

*'  Defcend  with  me,  and  join  the  fchools  below." 
To  Minos  ftraight  his  trembling  charge  he  bore  j 
Intent  he  heard  the  black  impeachment  o'er. 

Then  mark*d  my  lot  among  the  fons  of  woe. 

XXIL 
*'  Be  thine,'*  he  faid,  "  in  walking  fires  to  dwell, 
**  Since  that  fad  hour  I  roam  the  bounds  of  Hell, 

"  Involv'd  in  mould' ring  flames,  and  vapours  blue." 
He  ceas'd — the  quiv'ring  blaze  forgot  to  move. 
For  words  no  more  the  lab'ring  fummit  ftrove. 

And,  hifling  thro'  the  gloom,  the  Spedre  flew. 

XXIII. 
Onward  we  pafs,  and  climb  the  neighb'rlng  height. 
When  far  below,  confin'd  in  deeper  night. 

We  hear  the  num'rous  fons  of  difcord  mourn : 
The  man  that  dar'd  to  loofe  the  kindred  tie. 
The  long  litigious  train,  and  fecret  fpy. 

And  double  Friends,  and  Schifmatics  forlorn. 


END  09   THE    TWENTY-SEVENTH   CANTO, 


Ya 


C       32j'       3 


CANTO  THE  TWENTY- EIGIlTlL 


ARGUMENT*. 

Next  to  the  Lot  of  thofe  who  had  abufed,  or  penertedj  their  Ta- 
lents, the  Travellers  arc  introduced  into  the  Region  of  Schifma* 
tics.  Murderers,  and  Sowers  of  Sedition  ;  among  whom  Maho-> 
MET,  Ali,  Curio  the  famous  Tribune,  and  Mosca,  who  had 
firfl  kindled  the  Flames  of  Difcord  in  Florence,  make  the  prin- 
cipal Figures. 

vJH,  fettered  Soul  of  Rhyme  !  how  wilt  thou  rang« 
Around  the  fcene  of  torment,  new  and  flrange  ; 

Where  Profe,  with  unencumber'd  feet,  defpairs, 
Such  fields  of  fate,  and  floods  of  gore,  I  faw, 
Ev'a  Fancy  fears  the  living  fcene  to  draw. 

And  fad  Remembrance  ev'ry  torture  Ihares  ! 

ii. 

Let  CANNiE*s  field  no  more  her  triumphs  tell, 
Where  fad  JEmilius  with  his  Legions  fell, 

And  the  proud  Vidor  bore  the  fpoils  away ; 
When  old  Apulia  to  the  Gods  complain'd, 
When  o'er  his  fhores,  with  native  blood  diftalnM, 

In  flaughter'd  heaps  the  pride  of  Latium  lay. 

5/.  n.  /.  I. — -Ca-us m's  JteliT]     Where  the  Romans  were  con- 
quered with  prodigiovs  flaughter  by  Hankib  a  l. 

Y3  , 


C   326   ] 
ui. 

Not  Cann7E*s  plain,  nor  fad  Calabria's  field, 
Where  Guiscard's  northern  bands  the  foe  expell'd ; 

Or  Ceperano,  where  the  Norman  fled  > 
Or  that  diftinguifh'd  day,  when  Alard  drew 
^rhe  fatal  fnare  around  the  hoflile  crew. 

Could  match  the  fcenes  in  loweft  Hell  difplay'd  1 

IV. 

Not  all  the  wounds  that  mark  a  flying  hofl:. 
The  bofom  gor'd,  or  limb  in  battle  lofl:. 

With  this  infernal  maflacre  could  vie : 
There,  fever'd  to  the  chine,  and  fl:eep'd  in  blood. 
The  leading  Ghofl:  his  mangled  bofom  fhow'd. 

And  deep  his  quiv'ring  vitals  met  the  eye. 

St,  m.  /.  2. — Guiscard]  The  Norman  Knight  who  firfl  fet- 
tled in  Apulia.  From  him,  firft  the  ilhiftrious  Houfe  of  Suabia, 
and  next  (by  a  fpurious  branch)  the  Houfe  of  Aragon,  derived 
tlieir  claim  to  the  Crown  of  the  Two  Sicilies.  For  an  account  of 
the  battle  here  mentioned,  fee  Hiftorical  View  annexed.  See  alfo 
Villani,  lib.  iv. 

iS/.  iii.  7.3. — Ceperano]  Where  Manfred,  natural  Son  to 
Frederic  the  Second,  who  had  ufurped  the  throne  of  Naples 
fromCoNRADiN  his  Nephew,  was  defeated  and  flain  by  Charles 
of  Anjou, 

St.  iii.  /.  4- — Or  that  difl'wgut/hed day'\  At  Tagliacozzo,  where 
CoNRADiN,  the  rightful  heir  of  Naples,  was  robbed  of  his  birth- 
right and  life  by  Charles  of  Anjou.  (See  Hiftory  annexed.) 
By  the  advice  of  Alard,  the  van  pafTed  the  ford  with  Hemry  d^ 
CozANCE,  in  the  drefs  of  Anjou,  at  their  head.  They  we»e  foon 
defeated,  and  Cozance  flain;  whom  Conradin's  men  miftaking 
for  the  French  General,  thought  the  bufinefs  over,  and  fell  to 
plundering.    Then  the  Frekch  rofe  from  their  arabufcade,  fell  on, 

thfir 


C    327    ] 

V. 

He  look'd  aloft ;  and  foon,  with  furious  mood. 
His  deadly  hand  the  clofmg  wounds  renewM, 

And  rent  in  twain  the  bloody  feat  of  life : 
"  Behold  !  and  mark  my  doom,"  aloud  he  cry'd, 
*'  Heav'n's  Delegate  I  feem'd,  yet  heav'n  deny'd. 

And  fcatter'd  in  her  name  the  feeds  of  ftrife. 

VI. 

*'  See  !  following  clofe  behind,  a  fullen  Shade, 
Frefh  from  the  edge  of  yon*  enfanguinM  blade  j 

On  either  fhouider  hangs  his  parted  head ! 
See !  what  a  gory  ftream  his  locks  diflil, 
^Twas  he  that  firfl  oppos'd  my  fov'reign  will  ; 

And  half  my  powers  to  foul  rebellion  led ! 

VII. 

*'  Yon*  mutilated  bands,  that,  far  below. 
In  long  difaftrous  march  lamenting  go, 


the  difordered  foe,  and  cut  them  to  pieces.  Conradin  was  taken 
and  beheaded.  When  on  the  fcaffold  he  threw  his  glove  among  the 
crowd,  and  begged  thatfome  one  would  carry  it  to  Peter,  King 
of  Aragon,  as  a  mark  that  he  was  the  rightful  heir.  It  was  ac- 
cordingly carried  to  him  by  a  Knight  of  the  Family  of  Walbourg, 
who  carry  a  glove  in  their  arms  to  this  day.  Villani,  lib.  vii.  See 
Voltaire  Hill.  Univerfelle. 

St.  V.  /.  5. — Heav'n's  i)elegate'\     Mahomet. 
St.  vi.  /.  1.]    Ali,  the  firft  Schifmatic  from  the  Mahometan  faith. 
The  Perfians  follow  his  fed,  the  Turks  the  fed  of  Omar. 

Y4 


T  328  ] 

For  fchifms  and  fcandals  doom'd,  a  race  Impure  i 
Heav*n*s  facred  law  in  many  a  land  defil'4. 
Grafting  on  her  pure  flcm  their  fcions  wild, 

And  now,  by  turns,  the  tort'ring  hour  endure, 

VIII. 
"  T^ie  brandifhM  blade,  at  yonder  dreadful  poft, 
Still  as.  they  wheel  around  fhe  bloody  coaft, 

Mangles  the  trunks,  or  lops  the  limbs  away  : 
Thence,  halting,  maim'd,  they  march  ;  as  oft,  above. 
They  llrove  to  maim  the  growths  of  heav'nly  love. 

And  lead  the  candidates  of  blifs  ailray. 

IX. 
*'  The  bloody  breach,  at  ev*i*y  fatal  round. 
Unites,  to  feel  tlie  new-infli6led  wound. — 

But  who  art  thou  !  that  feem'fl,  with  tranquil  eye. 
To  view  the  labours  of  the  fentenc*d  train  ? 
Can  pray*r  or  tears  delay  the  blow  of  pain. 

Or  put  the  di-eaded  fhaft  of  Vengeance  by  ? 

X. 

•'  No  tenant  of  the  grave,  nor  fentenc*d  ghofl,," 
The  Bard  reply 'd^  *^  furveys  the  darkfome  coalt : — 

Commiflion'd  here  he  comes,  your  tribes  to  view  : 
But  I,  a  pris'ner  of  the  tomb,  attend. 
Thro'  yonder  vale  a  guiding  hand  to  lend, 

And  fliow  the  tortures  of  the  fentenc'd  crew." 

XI. 
"iTie  mutilated  band,  in  deep  amaze, 
Aflembled  rounds  with  darK  malignant  gaze  5 

Struck 


t   329   3 

Struck  with  my  fate,  forgetful  of  their  own. 
"  Bid  DoLCiN  arm  in  hafte  !'*  the  foremoft  faid, 
"  DoLCiN,  the  firft  that  feels  the  Stygian  blade. 

If  e*er  again  thou  feeft  the  golden  fun. 

XII. 
*'  In  vain  the  fnowy  ftorm  delays  the  war ; 
The  foe,  fagacious  of  his  track  afar. 

Shall  hunt  him  for  his  life  !'*     He  faid,  and  fled. 
Then,  with  his  weafand  piercM,  another  Ghoft, 
Short  of  his  ears  and  nofe,  approach'd  our  poft. 

Thro'  the  tumultuous  crowd,  with  hafty  tread. 

xm. 

with  fixed  eye  and  melancholy  mood. 

The  Spedre  gaz*d  ;  while  faft  the  gufliing  blood 

Streamed  from  the  bubbling  channel  of  his  breath.— 
*'  Oh,  thou!"  he cry'd, "  whofe high  diftinguifh'd  doom 
Sends  thee  below,  unconfcious  of  a  tomb. 

Remember  Pedro  in  the  world  beneath  I 

Sl  xi.  /.  4. — Dolcin]  a  noted  Heretic  in  the  "beginning  qjP 
the  14th  century,  whofe  fedl,  pretending  to  follow  the  letter  of  the 
Gofpel,  had  all  things  in  common.  They  were  guilty  of  the  moft. 
atrocious  crimes,  and  filled  the  whole  north  of  Italy  with  confu- 
fion.  At  laft,  they  were  obliged  to  retreat  to  the  Apennines, 
where  they  ftood  a  fort  of  fiege  ;  till  famine,  and  the  inclemency 
of  the  weather,  obhged  them  to  difperfe.  Dolcin  was  taken  and 
executed,  with  his  concubine.  Villani,  lib.  viii.  84.  See  Bayle's 
Diftionary,  Art.  Dolcin. 

St.  xiii.  /.  6. — Pedro]  Piero  di  Medicna,  who  had  fowft 
diffention  between  the  Families  of  Fano  and  Malatesta  of  Ri- 
mini; one  confcquence  of  which  was,  the  tragical  death  of 
"GuiDO  and  Anciolello,  who,  on  a  pretended  reconciliation, w^ere 

feductfd 


C   3^0   2 

XIV. 
*'  And  fhould'fl  thou  e'er  review  the  golden  day. 
Or  o'er  Verge lli*s  coafl  delighted  ftray. 

Where  to  Marcabo  fteals  the  gentle  vale. 
Tell  Fano's  Chiefs,  a  brave,  unhappy  pair, 
"Whom  late  my  deadly  arts  involv'd  in  war. 

To  keep  the  land,  and  fhun  the  tempting  fail. 

XV. 

*'  The  one-ey'd  Chief,  that  rules  the  weflem  fliore. 
Solicits  them  on  board,  and  dips  the  oar. — 

Ye  Cyprian  Clifis,  and  Old  Majorca,  tell! 
Did  e*er  the  flood,  whofe  azure  arms  unfold 
Your  lofty  flrand,  a  fouler  deed  behold. 

Of  roving  Algerine,  or  Pirate  fell  ? 


Ill 


XVT. 
"  I  fee  the  viftims  leave  the  Tuscan  fteep  ! 
I  fee  them  plunge  amid  the  circling  deep  ! 

If  aught  of  future  things  the  Dead  foreknow. 
See !  on  the  prow  exults  the  Traitor  King  ! 
And,  lo !  his  flaves  the  noble  captives  bring. 

And  plunge  relentlefs  in  the  gulph  below  1" 

XVII. 
*'  If  your  requefl  you  wifh  to  Fano  borne. 
Name  yonder  Shade !"  I  cry'd,  "  who  walks  forlorn, 

feduced  on  board  by  Lanciotto  Malatesta,  Tyrant  of  Rimini, 
(the  fame  that  had  murdered  his  wife  and  brother — fee  Canto  V.) 
and  thrown  into  the  fea.  The  incendiary  is  here  defcribed  as  en- 
deavouring to  prevent  their  doom,  left  their  death,  the  confequence 
of  his  villany,  {hould  heap  more  condemnation  on  himfelf.  Lak- 
piNO  and  Vellutello  in  loco^ 


C    331    ] 

With  dark,  malicious  mien,  and  eyes  of  fire  ?" 
Pedro  reply'd,  "  Tho'  filent  now  he  ftands. 
His  tongue  could  move  the  Cesarean  bands 

To  deeds  of  lawlefs  rage,  for  fordid  hire  ! 

XVIII. 

"  He  queird  the  doubts  in  Cesar's  mounting  foul; 
And  fhew'd  afar  the  bright  imperial  goal : 

But  foon  his  impious  tongue  the  forfeit  paid  1" 
Then,  with  determin'd  hand,  he  open'd  wide 
The  villain's  mouth,  that  pour'd  a  crimfon'd  tide. 

Where  the  maim'd  tongue  with  fruitlefs  motion 

[play'd. 

XIX. 

DifmemberM  of  his  hands,  the  next  appeared ; 
Aloft  his  mutilated  arms  he  rear'd, 

And  o'er  his  vifage  rain'd  a  bloody  fhow'r. — 
"  Be  Mosca's  name,"  he  cry'd,  "  for  ever  curs'd ! 
Behold  the  wretch,  whofe  faftious  weapon  firfl 

The  ftreets  of  Florence  dy'd  in  civil  gore  1" 

St.  xvii.  •/.  5.]  Curio,  the  faftious  Roman  Tribune,  whofe  ad- 
vice, according  to  Luc  an,  had  great  weight  with  C^sar,  in  in- 
ducing him  to  crofs  the  Rubicok. 

St.  xix.  /.  4.-^Mosca]  The  firft:  incendiary  who  began  the 
quarrel  between  theGuelfsand  GwiBELxiNEsat  Flc)R.ence.  He 
was  of  the  Family  of  Amiedie,  and  killed  a  gentleman  of  the  race  of 
BuoNDELMONTE,  to  avcnge  a  flight  put  on  a  Lady  related  to  him. 
See  Hiftory  annexed  See  alfo  Villani,  lib.  vii.  -and  MachiaveU 
lib.  i,  ii. 


XX. 

**  Plague  of  thy  native  land  !'*  incens'd,  1  Cry'd  ; 
Nor  added  more ;  for  now  the  mournful  Shade, 

Struck  by  my  voice,  with  quicken'd  pace  retires. 
But  hence,  ye  Race  profane !  ye  Sceptics,  hence ! 
New  horrors  rife,  and  unknown  fcenes  commence, 

Whofe  firm  behef  a  purged  mind  requires. 

XXL 

Guided  by  holy  truth,  I  dare  unfold 
What  never  Poet  fung  in  days  of  old  :— 

Behind  the  Florentine,  a  headlefs  man 
jAppear'd.     The  rigid  trunk  its  way  purfu'd 
To  the  high  barrier,  where,  amaz'd,  I  flood. 

Led  by  the  tumult  of  the  diflant  van. 

XXII. 

By  the  long  locks  the  gafping  head  he  bore. 
The  pallid  face  befmear'd  with  recent  gore, 

Seem'd  like  a  lamp,  to  guide  his  fleps  aright ; 
Still  fep'rate,  yet  flill  one,  they  marchM  along. 
The  ready  feet  purfue  the  hafly  throng. 

Led  by  the  trembling  eye*s  malignant  light. 

xxm. 

Slow  raifing  from  beneath  the  vlfage  fell, 
The  wondrous  organ  thus  began  to  tell 

His  dreadful  tale : — "  O,  Son  of  Earth !  attend, 
On  whom  the  Fates  a  wondrous  pow'r  beflow. 
Alive'  to  fee  the  tenements  of  woe. 

And  with  flrange  lenity  thy  doom  fufpend ! 
6 


[333    ] 

XXIV. 
*«  Beltram  behold  !  the  plague  of  England's  hdr. 
Who  bade  young  John  his  bloody  banners  rear 

Againfl  his  royal  Sire,  and  claim  the  crown ! 
See  1  headlefs,  how  I  march,  a  bleeding  bull ! 
A  well-proportion'd  doom  to  breach  of  truft. 

And  hateful  feuds  in  kindred  bofoms  fown  !'* 

St.  xxiv.  /.  I. — Beltram]  Or  Bertram  de  Bourti,  a  Nor- 
man Knight,  who  fpirited  up  John  of  England  to  rebel  againlt 
iiis  father,  Henry  the  Second. 


JND  OF  THE  TWENTY-EIGHTH  CANTO. 


C     335     1 


CANTO   THE   TWENTY-NINTH. 


ARGUMENT. 

Next  to  the  Circle  of  Sedition  fucceeds  the  Region  allotted  to 
.the  Punifliment  of  Alchemifts,  fraudulent  Projectors,  and  other 
Impoftors  of  that  fort ;  who  are  defcribed  under  feveral  kinds  of 
torture,  various  as  their  ciimes :  Among  thefe,  the  Poet  meets 
Griffolino  of  Arezzo,  a  famous  Projcftor,  and  Capochio 
of  Siena,  a  ProfefTor  of  the  occult  Philofophy. 


1  HUS  maim'd  with  many  a  wound,  the  difmal  train 
I.faw,  in  long  proceffion  o'er  the  plain 

Lamenting  march,  'till  forrow  dimm'd  my  fight : 
At  length,  the  Mantuan  Bard  exclaim'd,  "  Forbear ! 
Why  ever  thus  diflil  the  fruitlefs  tear. 
And  mourn  in  vain  the  fentenc'd  bands  of  night  ?" 

n. 

*'  Mean'ft  thou  on  this  exalted  point  to  ftand. 
And  fondly  number  o'er  the  wailing  band. 

That  mark  with  flreaming  gore  the  Stygian  path  ? 
.^No  flight  furvey  can  reach  the  mighty  fum. 
For  feven  Cimmerian  leagues  are  yet  to  come, 

Hid  by  their  Legions  in  the  fields  beneath. 


I    33^    3 

fll. 
**  Come  on ! — the  fatal  moments  fleet  away ! 
And,  far  beneath  our  feet,  with  upward  ray 

The  Moon  beholds  the  rolling  world  below. 
Far  other  thoughts  the  paffing  moments  claim, 
A  flendcr  fpace  aflign'd  to  deathlefs  fame. 

Which  onward  leads  us  thro'  the  vale  of  woe." 

IV. 

*'  No  trivial  caufe,"  I  cry*d,  "  my  fteps  detain'd  !*' 
Still  bent  on  hafte,  the  Bard  my  fuit  difdain'd. 

"  Oh,  Father !  ftay,'*  I  cry'd,  "  a  kindred  voice, 
Afcending  from  the  deep,  my  hearing  wounds — 
There  !  there  again  1  I  hear  the  well-known  founds. 

And  yonder  flalks  the  Shade  in  foul  difguife." 

V. 

Solemn  the  Bard  reply 'd,  "  the  hour  is  pafl-, 
Prefume  not  thou  the  gift  of  Heav*n  to  wafte ! 

Thou  might'fl  have  feen  thy  kindred  Shade  before.       I 
When  BoRNio's  tale  thy  fix'd  attention  held  j 
I  faw  him  leave  his  rank,  by  rage  impellM, 
Survey  thy  fomj,  and  menace  from  the  fhore, 

VI. 

"  No  pious  hand  a  kinfman's  blood  repaid. 
Still  unaveng*d  he  walks,  a  gory  Shade  j 

5"^  iii.  /•  3.]     The  Antipodes, 

St.  vf.I.  6.]  GERide  Bello,  of  the  Family  of  Alighieri,  and 
nearly  related  to  Dante.  He  was  killed  in  confequence  of  a  reli- 
gious difpute,  and  his  death  not  revenged  till  thirty  years  after. 
AVhat  his  condemnation  was  founded- On,  is  not  known. 

Thence 


C     337    ] 

Thence  fwells  his  rage,  and  thence  his  forrows  flow ! 
Then  deign  thofe  fympathizing  tears  to  fpare  V* 
In  vain  I  pray'd,  my  words  were  loft  in  air. 

Broke  by  new  clamours  from  the  gulph  below. 

VII. 

Sublime  I  ftood,  above  the  difmal  found, 

And  long,  loud  Ihrieks  the  hearing  feem'd  to  wound, 

StunnM  by  the  tumult  of  the  Stygian  throng  ; — 
— Awhile  it  paus'd  ; — again,  diftind:  and  clear. 
The  full,  infernal  choir  aifail'd  the  ear. 

And  Hell's  wide  vault  with  execrations  rung. 

VIII. 
My  guarding  hands  the  hearing  fenfe  defend. 
And  ftooping  down,  I  fee  from  end  to  end 

The  various  fcene ! — But  not  Sardinia's  ftrand. 
Not  all  the  pois'nous  fteams  tliat  August  breeds. 
Not  all  the  plagues  that  haunt  Maromma's  reeds, 

Match'd  the  contagion  of  the  Lazar  band. 

IX. 

Pregnant  with  lep'rous  fcentg,  the  loaded  gale 
Still  breath'd  infedion  round  the  dufky  vale  ; 

The  dufky  vale  a  general  groan  returns : 
Stern  Juftice  here  the  fcourge  in  venom  fteeps. 
And  deals  her  various  plagues  around  the  deeps, 

Th*  impoftor  crew  the  fore  affli£tion  mourns. 

X. 
O'er  old  ^gina  thus,  as  Poets  fing. 
The  Demon  fpread  her  peftilential  wing, 

St.  X.  A  I. — -^gina]      Alluding  to  the  Story  told  by  Ovid,  lib. 

»ii.  of  the  depopulation  of  ^gina  by  a  peftilence,  and  a  colony 

Vol.  I.  Z  of- 


■X^- 


C   338   3 

While  gafping  life  the  trembling  ifle  forfook  j 
'Till  bufy  ants,  by  wondrous  change  endu'd 
With  human  ihape,  the  failing  race  renew'd. 

And  Man*s  imperial  form  exulting  took, 

XI. 

In  putrid  heaps  difpers'd,  the  Lazar  train, 
With  foul  contagion  fill  the  groaning  plain. 

And  fcarce  we  laboured  thro'  the  noifome  throng 
Some  fat  defponding,  fome  with  reptile  pace 
Dragged  on  their  loaded  limbs  from  place  to  place. 

And  fome  in  fordid  mifery  lay  along. 

XII. 
Againfl;  each  other  prefs*d  an  hideous  Pair, 
With  lep'rous  limbs  embofs'd,  and  matted  hair. 

As  tiles  contiguous  fence  the  falling  hail ; 
Nor  plies  the  groom  with  more  induftrious  fpeed 
The  grating  comb  on  fome  diflinguifh'd  fteed. 

Than  thofe  ill-omen'd  Fiends  their  limbs  unfcgle. 

xin. 

Thus  flies  the  fenceful  coat  before  the  blade 
From  lufcious  bream  or  turbot  difarray'd. 

"  So  may  your  hands  the  odious  tafk  fuflain,*' 
The  Mantuan  cry'd,  "  ye  Souls  propitious !  tell, 
If  any  Florentine  in  durance  dwell 

Within  the  bound*rie&  of  your  fad  domain." 


of  ants  changed  into  n\en.    They  were  the  fathers  of  AcHiLtEs's 
myrmidons,  whofe  name  in  Greek  fignifies  ants. 

St.  xiii.  /.  3.]     The  Tranflator  has  abridged  this  odious  defcrip- 
tion  as  much  as  was  compatible  with  any  degree  of  cleamefs.    TTie 

early 


C    3J9    3 

XIV. 
Straight  one  of  them  reply*d,  "  thy  fearch  is  o'er  j 
Behold  a  fentenc*d  Pair  from  Arno's  fhore ! 

But  who  art  thou !  and  why  thy  ftrange  requeft  V* 
"  I  come,"  the  Manti^an  cry*d,  "  by  Heav'n's  com- 
To  guard  a  mortal  down  the  Stygian  ftrand,  [mand. 

And  Ihow,  in  fad  review,  the  tribes  ilnbleft*'* 

XV. 

Shrieking,  afunder  part  the  hideous  Pair, 
And  view  me  o'er  with  looks  of  wan  defpair^ 

And  all  the  thronging  Lazars  croud  around  ^ 
An  hideous  crew  !  the  Mantuan  faw  my  dread. 
And  "  feize  at  once  the  moment  given,"  he  faid, 

**  To  learn  the  wonders  of  the  world  profound." 

XVL 

Then,  tummg  round,  1  thus  the  Pair  addrefs'd  1 
*'  If  ftill  your  name  on  Arno's  fhore  confefl. 


early  Poets  of  the  middle  age  defcribed  every  thing,  however  dif- 
gufting,  with  great  minutericfs. — Spenser  has  this  fault  among  his 
various  excellencies.  This  fometimes  creates  averlion,  but  often 
fliews  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  fubjeft,  whatever  it  be.  This 
particularity  may  indeed  be  carried  too  far  ;  but  Poets,  fometimes 
by  avoiding  it,  run  into  more  general  terms,  and  lofe  thofe  beauti- 
ful fpecific  marks  of  things,  the  feleftion  of  which  in  defcription  is 
one  criterion  of  a  true  genius.  To  give  examples  of  this,  every 
Rhymer  can  talk  of  liflening  waves,  bvit  Cowley  gives  the  fpecific 
mark,  with  liim  "  they  liiten  towards  the  fhore."  Every  paftoral 
Poet  in  the  found  of  Bow  bell  can  fing  of  the  verdure  of  the  Spring ; 
but  Gray's  April  clothes  the  fields  in  tenJei-  green,  fuch  as  one 
•nly  fees  for  a  fortnight  in  the  beginning  of  that  feafon. 

Z  2  Survive 


C    340    3 

Survive  die  wreck  of  years,  your  crimes  difclofe : 
Nor  tho*  the  ignominious  plague  aflail 
Your  loaded  limbs,  and  fill  the  tainted  gale, 

Difdain  to  tell  the  procefs  of  your  woes." 

XVII. 

"  My  birth  Arezzo  claims,"  the  firft  reply'd, 
**  I  fell,  to  footh  a  fpurious  minion's  pride  : 

A  fond  believing  fool,  whofe  mad  defire 
I  mock*d  with  fchemes  of  necromantic  flight. 
To  raife  on  airy  plumes  his  leaden  weight. 

His  cruel  jfather  doom'd  me  to  the  fire !" 

xvni. 

"  But  chemic  arts  my  final  fentence  feal*d. 
And  Heav'n*s  relentlefs  doom  my  foul  compell'd 

To  join  the  dark  metallic  tribe  below. 
Hail !  hail,  Siena  !  nurfe  of  ev*ry  crime. 
Not  deeper  ftains  deform  the  barbarous  clime. 

Nor  fligmatize  the  Gaul's  difhonour'd  brow." 

XIX. 
I  fpoke,  ironic  thus  a  lep'rous  Shade, 
*'  Young  Stricca  only,  by  his  mates  betray*d 

•SV.  xvii. /.  6.]  Grifolino  of  Arezzo,  a  famous  Alchemift 
and  ProjtAor.  He  drew  great  fums  from  Alberto,  natural  fon 
to  the  Bifliop  of  Siena,  under  pretence  of  teaching  him  the  art  of 
flying.  The  affair  came  at  laft  to  the  Biftiop's  knowledge,  who 
delivered  him  over  to  the  fecular  arm  for  profeffing  unlawful  arts. — 
What  havoc  the  good  Bifhop  would  have  made  among  our  aero- 
ftatic  gentry ! 

St.  xix.  /.  2. — Stucca.]  a  young  and  noble  Floremtine, 
member  of  a  Club  of  young  men,  who  vied  with  each  other  which 
fhould  fpend  their  patrimony  fooneft. 

To 


[    341     ] 

To  foul  intemp'rate  wafte,  and  Colas  name. 
Great  Chief!  for  culinary  arts  renown'd, 
Whofe  poignant  fauce  the  glutton  tribe  refound, 

And  C  AG  CIAS  bleeding  vines  exception  claim. 

XX. 

"  And  let  the  vile  Abbagliato  go 
In  dark  oblivion  to  the  fhades  belovi^. 

With  all  his  foul  confederates  of  the  ftye ! 
There  let  them  lie  promifcuous  in  the  pit, 
Too  low  for  Satire's  keeneft  fhaft  to  hit. 

Among  the  tribes  of  low  intemp'rate  joy ! 

XXL 

*'  Nor  wonder  in  the  world  below  to  hear 
Siena*s  various  crimes  falute  thine  ear ! 

But  view  at  leifure  this  disfigur'd  face, 
if  fad  Capocchio  flill  thou  deign'fl  to  own, 
For  myftic  arts  of  tranfmutation  known. 

Who  lov'd  with  thee  thtfecret  World  to  trace ! 

XXII. 

**  How  oft',  in  native  innocence  of  heart, 
I  faw  you  wonder  at  the  mimic  art ! 

St.  xix.  /.  3,— Colas]  The  Apicius  and  Catius  of  his 
time. 

5/.  xxi. /.  4. — Capocchio.]  The  companion  of  Dante  for 
fome  time  in  phyfical  ftudies,  which  he  afterwards  changed  for  the 
Occult  Science,  as  Alchemy  was  then  called.  The  cheats  of 
Alchemifts  are  very  humoroufly  defcribed  in  the  Clianon's  Yeo- 
man's Tale  of  Chaucer. 

Z  3  —But 


[     343     3 

— But  foon  my  hand  forfook  the  trivial  toil 
For  bolder  frauds,  and  taught  the  bafer  ore 
To  match  the  genuine  gold  of  India's  fliore. 

And  fell  ^  vidim  to  the  fatal  guile." 


END   OF   THE    TWENTY-NINTIi    CANTO, 


C    343     3 


CANTO  THE  THIRTIETH. 


ARGUMENT. 

The  Poet  continues  to  defcribe  the  different  fpecies  of  Fraud.  In 
this  Canto  he  gives  an  account  of  two  other  kinds  of  it,  and 
their  Punifhments.  The  firft,  of  thofe  who  had  been  guihy  of 
Impofition  under  fiftitious  Names  ;  and  the  fecond,  of  thofe  who 
had,  by  fiftitious  Tales,  completed  their  fraudulent  purpofes. — 
Among  them  are  found,  Myrrha  and  Potiphar's  wife,  Simom 
the  Greek,  and  Adam,  a  native  of  Brescia,  in  Italy. 


vJF  old,  when  Juno  burnt  with  jealous  ire, 
And  pleas'd,  her  rival  faw  in  flames  expire  j 

Yet  flill  her  haplefs  family  purfu*d  : 
The  furious  King  addrefs'd  the  trembling  throng : 
''  Seize  yon*  wild  favage,  and  deftroy  her  young  y* 

Then  chas'd  his  confort  to  the  raging  flood. 

St.'u  I.  I. — Juno.]  Alludes  to  Juno's  jealous  revenge  on  Se- 
MELE,  her  rival,  and  her  fubfequent  perfecution  of  the  Family  ;  par- 
ticularly her  infpiring  At  ham  as  with  madnefs,  when  he  miftook 
his  wife  and  children  for  a  wild  beaft  and  her  young  ones,  and  pur- 
fued  them  to  the  Chffs  ofCiTH^RON;  where,  after  he  killed  one, 
(he  threw  herfelf  with  the  other  into  the  fea.     Ovid,  hb.  iii,  iv. 

Stanzas  iii.  andiv.  allude  to  the  madnefs  of  Hecuba,  owing  to 
the  naisfortunes  of  her  Family,  and  her  fubfequent  transformation, 
as  defcribed  by  Ovid  and  Euripides.     B.  C.  13. 

Z4  The 


[     344     ] 

U, 

Soon  from  the  Queen  he  forc'd  the  fcreaming  child, 
And  the  rude  rocks  with  infant  gore  defird— 

With  the  remaining  fon  the  mother  fled  : 
And  up  the  neighb'ring  cUfl"  with  frenzy  flew. 
Then  down  herfelf,  and  Melicerta  threw, 

A  welcome  weight  to  Thetis*  oozy  bed. 

III. 

When  fate  her  unrefifted  pow*r  to  fhew, 
Had  laid  the  heav'n-built  walls  of  Ilium  low. 

And  fwept  away  old  Priam's  numerous  race : 
The  frantic  Queen  beheld  her  flaughter-d  lord. 
And  grimly  fmil'd,  to  fee  the  ruffian's  fword 

With  wanton  rage  his  reverend  form  deface. 

IV. 

Her  beauteous  daughter's  fate  renew'd  the  wound  ; 
But  when  her  Polydore  the  mother  found, 

Stretch'd  on  the  fand,  her  tears  forgot  to  flow  j 
In  notes  canine  her  human  voice  was  loft. 
And  foon,  transform'd,  along  her  native  coaft. 

The  royal  favage  howl'd  in  endlefs  woe, 

V. 

But  Thebes,  nor  Ilium,  with  their  plagues  combin'd, 
Equal'd  the  Pair  in  moon-ftruck  madnefs  join'd  ; 


The  Poet  introduces  this  Canto  with  two  fimiles,  to  give  a 
ftrongcr  idea  of  the  afflifting  diforder  which  he  next  defcribes.  He 
feems  to  hint,  that  they  were  tormented  with  a  diforder  like  canine 
madnefs,  as  they  are  defcribed  with  all  the  fymptoms  of  it. 


[     345    ] 

"Who  cours'd  the  nether  world  with  whirlwind  fpeed: 
Gnafliing  his  iron  teeth  the  foremoft  flew, 
And  headlong  to  the  ground  Capocchio  drew ; 

Beneath  his  favage  fangs  I  faw  him  bleed. 

VI. 
With  horrent  hair  amaz'd,  his  neighbour  flood, 
And  faw,  in  filent  woe,  the  fcene  of  blood ; 

While  trembling  thus,  1  breath'd  my  ardent  pray'r: 
"  Tell,  Grifolin  !  while  yet  'tis  given  to  tell  I 
Ere  yon*  Demoniac's  hands  your  utt'rance  quell. 

Why  confcience  flings  to  rage  the  bloody  Pair  ?" 

VII. 
*'  The  firll  is  fhe !"  the  trembling  fmner  cry'd, 
"  Who,  lofl  to  fhame,  her  mother's  place  fupply'd ; 

While  deep  nodurnal  fhades  the  deed  conceal'd. 
DoNATi's  meagre  look  the  fecond  flole. 
And  fign'd  for  him  the  teflamental  fcroll. 

His  injur'd  fon  in  vain  the  fraud  reveal'd." 

5"/.  vii.  /.  1.]  For  the  Story  of  Myrrh  A,  fee  Ovid,  lib.  x.— 
Her  companion  4efcribed  here  as  tortured  with  canine  madnefs,  was 
GiAN  ScHicci,  whofe  Story  is  thus  told  by  the  old  Commenta- 
tors : A  Gentleman  of  the  Family  of  Donati,  happened  to 

take  his  lafl  illnefs  at  the  houfe  of  a  relation,  Simon  Donati,  and 
died  fuddenly.  SiMOij  concealed  his  death,  got  the  body  removed, 
and  perfuaded  Schicci,  (a  man  of  a  cadaverous  complexion,)  to 
take  his  place  in  the  bed,  and  iign  a  Will  in  the  prefence  of  com- 
petent witnefTes,  which  he  had  previoufly  drawn  up  in  his  own  fa- 
vour, and  in  prejudice  of  young  Donati,  the  rightful  heir.  When 
this  was  done,  the  Impoftor  rofe,  the  dead  body  was  replaced,  and 
the  funeral  was  ordered  with  due  decorum.  The  matter  was  firll 
fufpefted  by  a  prefent  which  Donati  made  to  Schicci,  of  a  beau- 
tiful mare  of  great  value,  known  by  the  name  oi  La  Donna  di 
Tarma,  The  Queen  of  the  Troop.     Landing. 


C   346   ] 

VIII. 
He  ended  fcarce,  when  o'er  the  fable  wade. 
With  tyger-footed  rage  the  felons  pafs'd  : 

I  turn'd  me  round,  their  brother  Fiends  to  view. 
When,  lo !  a  formlefs  man  in  dropfies  loft, 
Stretch'd  his  unwieldy  limbs  along  the  coaft, 

A  bloated  form !  with  face  of  fickly  hue. 

IX. 

The  fluid  plague  his  mighty  limbs  opprefsM, 
And  fiird  with  wat'ry  load  his  groaning  cheft, 

While  hedic  pantings  ftrain'd  his  lab'ring  jaws ; 
Intenfe,  eternal  thirfl  his  bowels  burn*d. 
The  draught  deny'd  by  fate,  the  prisoner  mourn'd. 

And  loudly  bann'd  her  unrelenting  laws. 

X. 

"  Ye  fouls,  that  range  around  the  Stygian  plain, 
(Oh,  partial  Heav'n !)  without  the  fenfe  of  pain ; 

Gafping,"  he  cryM,  "  Adamo*s  fate  behold ! 
Heav'n's  choiceft  gifts  my  fordid  hand  abus'd. 
And  now,  alas !  the  cooling  drop  refus'd, 

For  ever  mocks  my  raging  thirft  of  gold, 

XI. 

<*  Ye  rills,  that  wander  down  Romena's  deep, 
Till  Arno  bears  your  treafures  to  the  deep, 

St.x.  /.  3. — ^Adamo]  a  native  of  Brescia,  eminently  (killed 
in  metallurgy'.  For  a  ftipulated  reward,  he  agreed  with  the  Count 
of  RoMENA,  GuiDO,  and  his  Brother,  to  debafe  the  current  coin, 
by  which  his  employers  were  fuddenly  enriched.  But  poor  Adamo 
was  detefted,  and  condemned  to  the  flames  for  "  unlawful  arts."— 
The  illufions  of  fancy,  that  aggravate  his  punifliment,  are  beauf 
tifully  defcribed  in  that  fine  apoftrophe  to  the  Waterfalls  of 
Casentiho. 

3 


C     347     ] 

Why  thus  with  murmurs  foft  delude  mine  ear  ? 
Ye  empty  warblers  1  leave  me  to  repofe  ! 
Nor  roufe  to  rage  my  fell,  peculiar  woes  ; 

Enough  for  me  the  dropfy's  load  to  bear. 

XII. 

*'  And,  oh !  ye  facred  founts !  ye  favour'd  climes ! 
Ye  fhady  fcenes  !  that  faw  my  hidden  crimes  ! 

Haunt  me  not  thus ;  nor  aid  the  pains  of  HelU 
Still,  ftill  I  fee  fair  Casentino's  Ihore  ! 
Where  firfl  I  dar'd  to  fpoil  the  fterUng  ore, 

And,  fentenc'd  to  the  flames,  unpitied  fell ! 

XIII. 

*'  Could  I  but  once  the  villain  Guido  view  J 
Or  Aghinolf,  among  the  Stygian  crew! 

Were  all  Siena  with  her  ftreams  in  dow'r 
On  me  beftow*d,  to  bathe  in  cool  delight, 
J*d  give  them  all,  to  buy  the  welcome  fight ! — > 

Vd  give  them  all,  to  feel  them  in  my  pow'r  I 

XIV. 

*'  Thofe  frantic  fouls  that  range  the  world  of  woe. 
Have  feen  the  brother  felons  far  below ; 

But,  oh !  thofe  dropfy'd  limbs  their  aid  deny : 
Twelve  hundred  waning  moons  would  end  their  race, 
^re  thefe  poor  legs  could  meafure  thrice  a  pace, 

Elfe  would  my  weary  feet  the  journey  try, 

XV. 

*'  Altho'  four  tedious  leagues  their  lot  extends. 
And  thus  the  wat'ry  load  my  body  bends  j 


C   348   ] 

Yet  gladly  would  I  bear  the  arduous  toil, 
To  fee  the  youths  whofe  wily  tongues  enfnar'd 
My  foul !  whofe  wily  hands  the  plunder  fhar*d. 

And  left  to  me  the  labour  of  the  file." 

XVI. 

"  Yet,  ere  we  part,'*  I  cry*d,  "  their  names  difclofe, 
From  whom  yon'  fullen  fume  incelTant  flows. 

As  the  hand  fleams  in  winter's  frozen  wave.'* 
*'  When  firft,"  he  faid,  "  from  yonder  world  I  fell, 
1  found  below  thefe  Denizens  of  Hell, 

Twin-tenants  of  the  deep  Tartarean  cave. 

XVII. 

'*  For  ever  pining,  thus  they  lie  forloni. 
The  firfl  is  fhe  that  paid  the  Hebrew's  fcom 

With  accufations  foul,  and  deadly  hate  ; 
Old  SiNON  next  reclines  his  burning  head. 
And  feels  the  fever  thro'  his  vitals  fpread  ; 

Hark!  how  he  raves  beneath  its  fervid  weight  T* 

XVIII. 

Incens'd  to  hear  the  ftory  of  his  fhame. 
The  felon  flarted  from  his  couch  of  flame, 

St,  xvii.  /.  2.]J     The  Story  of  Potiphar's  wife  is  well  known. 

Si.  xvii.  /.  4. — SiNON.]  For  the  Story  of  Sinon,  who  per- 
fuaded  the  Trojans,  by  a  feigned  Tale,  to  break  down  their 
walls  and  receive  a  wooden  horfe  filled  with  their  enemies,  fee 
Virgil,  lib.ii. 

And 


C     349    3 

And  ftruck  the  Florentine  ;  with  hollow  found 
His  dropfy'd  womb  return'd  the  feeble  blow ; 
The  Tufcan  foon  with  rage  began  to  glow. 

And  ftrokefor  ftroke  returned,  and  wound  for  wound. 

XIX. 
With  leaden  weight  the  pond'rous  hand  defcends. 
No  more  the  conqueror  of  Troy  contends, 

"  My  heels  are  fetter'd,  but  my  fill  is  free  j" 
Adam  exulting  cry'd  :  the  Greek  exclaims, 
*'  Why  flept  thy  valour  then  among  the  flames, 

When  Ihouting  legions  mock'd  thy  arts  and  thee  ? 

XX. 

"  You  better  knew  to  melt  the  mimic  ore." 

**  Ah  1'*  cry*d  his  foe,  "  if  thus,  in  days  of  yore. 

You  follow'd  truth,  the  walls  of  Troy  had  ftood." 
<'  At  once,"  the  Greek  reply'd,  "  I  earned  my  lot, 
In  my  firft  failure,  by  damnation  caught. 

But  countlefs  crimes  thy  parting  foul  purfu'd !" 

XXI. 

"  Think  on  the  hollow  fteed,"  the  Coiner  cry*d, 
"  And  hide  thy  head  ;  in  deep  damnation  hide  !" 

"  And  let  thy  wat'ry  paunch,  "the  Greek  rejoinM, 
*'  And  burning  tongue,  thy  blamelefs  life  atteft. 
See,  fee !  thy  limbs  with  liquid  weight  opprefsM, 

That  fcarcely  leave  the  human  form  behind." 

XXII. 
Trembling  the  Tufcan  cry*d,  inflam*d  with  ire, 
"  Can  pining  dropfy  match  the  fever's  fire  ? 

5"/.  xix.  /.  3.]     Borrowed  from  Samson  Agonistes. 


C   350   1 

"Will  that  ill-omen*d  tongue  no  refplte  know  ? 
Oh  !  wou*d  to  Heav'n,  or  Hell,  I  knew  the  (train, 
Whofe  fpell  could  bid  thee  leave  the  bed  of  pain. 

And  feck  Narcissus*  limpid  ftream  below !" 

XXIII. 
Long  had  I  liflen'd  to  the  uncouth  fray ; 
At  length,  "  if  thus  you  linger  by  the  way, 

I  leave  my  charge,"  the  angry  Poet  faid. 
Like  one  I  ftood,  whom  trembling  dreams  affright. 
Who  feems  o'er  hanging  cliiFs  to  urge  his  flight 

In  vain,  with  feeble  limbs,  and  mind  difmay'd. 

Si.  xxii.  /.  6.]  In  the  original,  "  I  believe  you  would 
not  require  much  preffing  to  hck  the  looking-glafs  of  NaR" 
cissus  ;"  i.  e.  the  fountain  where  he  fell  in  love  with  his  fliadow. 
Seleftion  of  knguage  was  not  yet  known  ;  Dante,  as  he  defcribes 
every  tiling,  often  makes  ufe  of  the  words  that  firft  offer.  This 
gives  his  ftyle  fometimes  a  flat,  profaic  afpeft,  but  its  general  cha- 
rafteriflic  is  venerable  fimplicity,  and  his  fublimity  depends  on  the 
thought  alone. 

It  is  a  wonder  that  we  have  not  fuch  fcenes  oftener  in  Dante,  as 

this  between  Adam  of  Brescia  and  Sinon  of  Trov.     Far  from 

degrading  the  fubjecl,  it  rather  feems  very  confiftent  with  Dante's 

conftant  defign  to  fhew  the  human  character  in  all  its  varieties.     In 

the  InfernO)  fome  exprefc  their  feelings  for  others,  fome  feel  for 

themfelves : 

**  The  tender  for  another's  pain, 

*'  Th'  unfeeling  for  their  own." 
Some  bear  their  affliction  with  a  kind  of  fullen  fortitude  ;  and,  to 
incorrigible  natures,  it  only  ferves  to  exafperate  their  malignity. 
All  thefe  phsenomena  often  appear  in  the  fufferings  of  criminals,  even 
here.  That  the  fenfe  of  their  torments  fhould  wake  the  fympathy 
of  the  condemned,  and  their  fears  for  thofe  who  may  be  in  danger 
pf  a  like  fentence,  cannot  feem  ineongruous  to  thofe  who  rennem- 
ber  the  pathetic  fupplication  of  the  rich  man  for  his  brethren 

(Luke 


C    35^     3 

XXIV. 
Th*  unreal  danger  thus  I  (trove  to  ward, 
And  trembling  funk  beneath  his  flern  regard  ; 

While  lame  excufes  faulter'd  on  my  tongue. 
But  Maro  foon  difpell'd  my  rifmg  fear  : 
*'  Thy  fault  is  gone,"  he  cry'd,  "  refume  thy  cheer, 

I  fee  thy  foul  by  deep  contrition  (lung  ! 

XXV. 

*'  Henceforward  when  the  Fiends  begin  to  jar. 
Be  cautious  thou !  and  fliun  the  wordy  war  5 

Think  on  thy  hopes,  and  quench  the  low  defire. 
Depart  with  me,  and  let  the  Demons  rage ; 
Let  not  the  ceafelefs  brawl  thine  ear  engage, 

And  damp  the  mounting  flame  of  heavenly  fire." 


(Luke  xvi.  27,  28.) Had  Dr.  Scot,    the  Author  of  The 

Chriftian  Life,  been  a  Poet,  and  chofen  to  diverfify  his  view  of  the 
Infernal  World  with  proper  characters  and  incidents,  we  fhould  pro- 
bably have  had  many  fcenes  Hke  that  between  Adam  of  Brescia 
and  SiNON.  He  is  at  the  fame  time  a  folid  reafoner,  and  poffeffed 
of  a  ftrong  imagination  ;  but  he  feems  to  delight  in  the  terrible 
and  tremendous,  more  than  even  Dante  himfelf ;  and  he  has  no- 
thing of  Dante's  pathos.  The  Demons  of  the  Florentine 
are  mild,  placable  beings,  compared  with  thofe  of  the  old  Divine  ; 
they  are  as  different  qlmoft  as  the  light  aerial  fpells  of  Oberon,  and 
the  horrible  incantations  of  the  Fatal  Sifters,  in  Gray.  See  Spec- 
tator, No.  447.  See  alfo,  A  Summary  of  the  Third  Chapter  of 
the  Firil  Book  of  Tie  Chrljiian  Lifcy  at  the  end  of  the  Notes. 


END  OF  TH£  THIRTIETH   CANTO. 


C    353    3 


GANTO  THE  THIRTY-FIRST. 


ARGUMENT. 

The  Poets  arrive  at  the  ninth  Region,  divided  into  four  Circles, 
Avhere  four  Species  of  Perfidy  are  punifhed.  Around  the  Verge,  he 
finds  a  Guard  of  Giants;  among  vphom  he  fees  Nimrod,  Ephi- 
ALTES,  and  Ant-sus,  with  feveral  others,  real  or  fabulous.  By 
the  laft  they  are  aflifted  in  their  Journey  over  the  Frontiers. 


1  HE  voice  that  touch'd  my  heart  with  gen*rous  pain. 
And  ting'd  my  glowing  cheeks  with  crimfon  llain, 

Pour'd  in  the  fov'reign  balm,  and  heal'd  the  wound. 
Thus,  as  the  Poets  fmg,  Pelides'  fteel 
The  cruel  blow  could  either  give  or  heal. 

And  raifc  the  bleeding  warrior  from  the  ground. 

II. 

And  now  we  left  the  difmal  vale  behind. 

And  climb'd  the  barrier  which  its  plagues  confined, 

In  filence  roaming  round  the  world  of  woe : 
Guided  along  by  that  malignant  light. 
That  lefs  than  morning  feem'd,  and  more  than  night, 

Pale,  gleaming  from  the  frozen  lake  below. 
Vol.  I.  A  a 


C     ^54    1 

III. 
But  now  a  trumpet,  terrible  afar, 
Pour'd  thro'  the  Stygian  world  the  blaft  of  war; 

Not  Roland's  horn  in  Roncesvalles  field. 
Startled  the  air  with  half  fo  loud  a  ftrain, 
AVhen  Gallia's  Heroes  prefs'd  the  bloody  plain. 

And  Charlemagne  refign'd  the  Hlied  fhield. 

IV. 

Now  o'er  the  gloomy  vale  with  fliarpenM  fight 
I  look'd,  when,  feen  by  dim  and  dubious  light, 

A  range  of  lofty  fteeples  feem'd  to  rife. 
**  O  Sire !  the  wonders  of  the  deep  declare," 
1  cry'd  ; — and  Maro  thus :  "  The  dufky  air 

And  rifing  fogs  confufe  your  mortal  eyes. 

Sl  iii.  a  3 . — Ro  L  A  N  d's  /jorn^  The  hoiii  was  blown  by  the  Ghoft 
of  that  mighty  Hunter,  Nimrod. 

RoNCEsvALLEsjf^W.]  When  Charlemagne  (according to Tur* 
»in)  had  conquered  part  of  Spain,  he  fent  Gang,  or  Ganelone, 
Lord  of  Maganza,  the  famous  Traitor  in  Ariosto,  to  the  two 
Saracen  Commanders  that  remained,  with  an  alternative,  either  to 
leave  Christendom,  or  be  baptized.  They  corrupted  Gang,  who 
betrayed  the  counfels  of  Charlemagne  to  them,  and  advifed  them, 
with  part  of  their  forces  to  give  Orlando,  the  nephew  of  Charle- 
magne, battle,  in  the  Pyrenees,  and  to  conceal  a  ftrong  ambuf- 
cade  near  the  place  of  engagement.  They  took  their  meafures  ac- 
cordingly, and  engaged  Orlando  at  Roncesvalles.  The  ve- 
teran French  foon  put  them  to  flight,  but  in  the  diforder  of  pur- 
fuit  they  were  attacked  by  the  Moorish  ambufcade,  with  great 
(laughter.  There  was  a  large  party  of  French  at  fome  diftancea 
Orlando  founded  his  wonderful  horn  to  let  them  know  his  diftrefs, 
but  the  extraordinary  effort  had  a  very  tragical  effeft  on  himfclf. 
He  is^  faid  to  have  burft  his  windpipe,  being  reprefented  as  invul- 
nerable.— ^Vid.  Suitte  dc  Roland  Ic  Furieux  par  M,  Rosset,  4to. 
a  Paris  1644.  See  alfo  Mr.  Hayley's  Effay  on  Hiftory.  Notes 
on  the  fecond  Epiftlcr  * 


',       C    355    3 

♦        V. 

*'  But  foon  thou  may'ft  behold  her  wonders  near ! 
Come !  follow  on  your  friend,  devoid  of  fear ! 

And  know,  in  yonder  Gulph  the  Giant  brood. 
Old  Anak's  fons,  and  Phlegra's  bands  renown'd. 
In  tow'ring  fquadrons  man  the  Gulph  around, 

Fix*d  to  the  middle  in  the  frozen  flood." 

m. 

As  when  the  mid  forfakes  the  mountain's  height. 
And  her  tall  rocks  emerge  in  open  light. 

In  dread  magnificence,  the  Stygian  fcene. 
Nor  monftrous  births  difclos'd,  a  profpe£t  dire ! 
As  round  fome  fort  the  cloud-capt  tow*rs  afpire. 

So  flood  the  portly  race  with  haughty  mien. 

VII. 

Embodied  thus  on  Pelion's  hills  they  flrove. 
And  proudly  fac'd  the  flaming  bolts  of  Jove : 

But  nearer  now,  their  lineaments  deform. 
And  ample  breafls  we  faw,  wdth  pale  difmay 
Their  formidable  arms  that  crofs'd  the  bay. 

And  dauntlcfs  heads  fublime  that  brav'd  the  llorm. 

VIII. 

Nature  in  mercy  left  the  deadly  trade. 
And  fouls  no  more  in  Giant  limbs  array'd. 

Left  mighty  Mars  fhould  lay  the  world  in  blood. 
Nature,  whofe  hand  the  Elephant  confines, 
Who  to  the  Whale  the  wat'ry  world  afTigns, 

Forbid  with  kindred  gore  to  tinge  the  flood. 
Aa  2 


[     356    ] 

IX.         » 

But  not  the  foreft  tribes,  nor  finny  rac&. 
With  equal  rage  their  native  walks  deface, 

As  he  \vhoie  deadly  arm  by  Reafon's  light 
Direded  falls,  and  mocks  the  warding  hand  ; 
Confpiring  realms  in  vain  his  pow'r  withfland, 

In  vain  embattled  hods  defend  their  right. 

X. 

With  helmed  head  like  Peter's  dome  fublime. 
We  faw  their  Gen'ral  front  the  horrid  clime ; 

The  Hoping  bank  his  middle  round  embracM, 
But  three  tall  Frisians,  from  the  icy  main. 
All  end-long  rang'd,  would  ftretch  their  arms  in  vain. 

To  reach  his  fhoulders  from  his  ample  waifl.  ^ 

XL 

A  f)Tnphony  of  Babel  founds  he  pour'd. 

Fit  Anthem  for  fuch  Fiend  !  and  ftemly  lowr'd, 

"  Rcftrain  thy  brutal  rage,"  the  Bard  reply'd^ 
"  Or  thro'  thy  clam'rous  horn  thy  fury  fpend. 
That  feems  adown  thy  bofom  to  depend. 

To  thy  ftrong  neck  by  links  of  iron  ty'd?" 

XII. 

Then  thus  to  me :  "  The  barb'rous  tongue  betrays 
That  Chief,  whofe  bold  ambition  dar'd  to  raife 

St.  xi.  /.I.]     In  the  Original, 

Raphegi  mai  amech  izabi  almi. 
St.  xii.  /.  2. — That  Chief]     Nimrod. 

Oa 


C     ZS7    ] 

On  Tygris  banks  the  Heav'n-defying  t6w*r, 
'Till  Difcord,  fent  from  Heav'n  his  tribes  among, 
Seal'd  ev'ry  ear,  and  fetter'd  ev'ry  tongue, 

Wliile  jarring  millions  own'd  her  wayv/ard  pow'r, 

xiir, 

**  A  medley  of  all  tongues,  to  all  unknown. 
The  Monfter  fpeaks,  a  language  quite  his  own. 

Nor  knows  the  meaning  of  the  mongrel  founds  i 
Nor  thou  exped:  his  fpeech  to  underftand, 
Tho'  ev'ry  dialed  of  ev'ry  land 

Were  thine,  thro'  all  the  peopled  world  around." 

XIV. 

Far  to  the  left  we  faw  the  barrier  wind, 
And,  lo  !  another  monftrous  form,  reclin'd 

Againft  the  rock,  in  gloomy  durance  lay : 
A  mighty  arm  his  fmewy  llrength  had  bound, 
And  links  of  adamant  were  twifted  round 

His  limbs,  fatigued  with  many  a  vain  eflay. 

ZV. 
*'  Thare  Ephialtes  mourns,"  the  Mantuan  cry'd, 
"  Whofe  deadly  arm  the  bolt  of  Jove  defy'd ; 

The  fierceft  Chief  that  warr'd  on  Phlegra's  pfain. 
Thofe  horrible  ftrong  hands  that  fhook  the  fky, 
Deep  chain'd  below  in  frofly  fetters  lie. 

For  ever  plung'd  in  yonder  icy  main ! 

^U  xii.  /.  4 — 'Till  Difcord'}     viz.  at  Babel. 

St.  XV.  /.  I. — -Ephialtes^  One  of  the  Giants,  who,  according 
to  Mythological  Hiftory,  warred  againft  Jove. — See  ^neid  vi.— 
Ovid.  Metam.  i  Fabt  iii.     Virg.  Georgic  i,  adjln, 

Aa  3 


C   358    ] 

XVI. 

**  Tell,  if  in  yonder  Gulph  ^geon  raves; 
Or  fay,  in  which  of  thofe  Tartarean  caves 

The  grizzly  Tenant  dwells.'* — With  eager  hafle 
I  fpoke — and  thus  returned  the  gentle  Ghoft  ; 
"  Yonder  he  fhudders  in  eternal  froft. 

And  fternly  fad  furveys  the  polar  wafte. 

XVII, 

"  And  there  Ant^us  roams  with  liberal  pace, 
Sole  unconfin'd  of  all  the  Giant  race. 

And  waits  to  waft  us  down  the  difmal  fteep." 
He  fpoke,  and  fled:  for  gath'ring  fall  behind. 
Loud  execrations  fill'd  the  pafling  wind, 

And  heaving  earthquakes  feem'd  to  fliake  the  deep, 

XVIII. 
I  tum'd  around,  and  faw  with  pale  affright. 
Where  Ephialtes  ftrove  with  all  his  might 

His  arms  to  free,  and  fhook  the  ftony  bar : 
On  me  he  feem'd  to  rufli  with  frantic  cry. 
Fate  in  his  hand,  and  horror  in  his  eye, 

Trembling  I  fhunn'd.  with  fpeed  th'  unequal  war, 

XIX. 
At  length  emerging  from  his  horrid  cave. 
We  faw  our  grizzly  Guide  his  flature  heave, 

5/.  xix.  /.  2.]  The  Story  of  Antaeus  wreftling  with  Hercules, 
and  recovering  new  ftrength  when  he  touched  his  mother  earth,  and 
at  laft,  being  throttled  in  the  air,  is  told  with  great  fpirit  by  Lu- 
CAN,  Pharfalia,  lib.  iv.  It  is  imitated  by  Ariosto  and  Spen- 
ser. ^       - 

"  Lord 


C     3-59     ] 

"  Lord  of  the  Lion-Tribe  !  renown'd  of  old. 
In  thofe  fam'd  fields  that  faw  the  Punic  Ihame, 
Where  SciPio's  hand  retriev'd  the  Roman  name," 

The  Mantuan  cry'd,  "  thy  fated  charge  behold! 

XX. 

"  Hadft  thou  on  Phlegra's  plain  the  combat  led. 
No  Mortal  Chief  like  thee  had  rais'd  his  headj 

But  gentler  talks  thy  prefent  aid  demand. 
Nor  thou  averfe  the  gentle  talk  difclaim  : 
Behold  the  Bard  that  gives  eternal  fame, 

Whofe  deathlefs  drains  requite  thy  friendly  hand. 

XXL 

"  For  ftill  he  lives  Confin'd  to  mortal  views. 
Still  doom'd  to  '  meditate  the  thanklefs  Mufe,' 

Unlefs  preventing  Grace  abridge  his  flay : 
Obfcure  he  journies  thro*  the  world  of  woe. 
And  waits  thy  welfare  to  the  Gulph  below. 

Where  pale  Cocytus  fills  the  frozen  bay." 

XXIL 

Thofe  hands,  whofe  dreadful  gripe  Alcides  fear'd. 
He  ftretch'd,  and  from  the  ground   the  Mantuan 
reared, 

To  me  the  Bard  with  arms  inflin6llve  clung, 
Like  Carisenda's  tow*r  the  Giant  flood. 
Portentous  leaning  o'er  Bologna's  flood 

With  louring  fogs  around  his  turrets  hung. 

St.  xxi.  /.  2.]     Spenser, 

Aa  4 


[     36o     ] 

XXIII. 

Sinking  at  length,  the  central  Gulph  we  gain. 
Where  Lucifer  commands  the  frozen  plain. 

And  old  IscARioT  heads  the  horrid  crew ; 
Reclining  breathlefs  on  the  ftiore  unblefs'd. 
We  faw  the  Libyan  rear  his  (lately  creft. 

Spring  like  a  maft,  and  tow*r  above  the  view. 


5ND   OF    THE    THIRTY-FIRST    CANTO, 


C   361    ] 


CANTO   THE   THIRTY-SECOND. 


ARGUMENT, 
tn  the  GuLPH  of  Caina,  the  fecond  Region  of  the  lafl  Circle,  the 
Poet  fees  the  puniihment  of  Fratricide  ;  and  in  the  third,  called 
Antenora,  he  learns  the  doom  of  Treafon.  In  the  firft,  he 
finds  the  Soul  of  Alberto  Camiscione,  a  noble  Florentine} 
and  in  the  fecond,  he  fees  the  Spirit  of  BoccA  Abate.  Froaa 
them  he  learns  the  names  of  their  refpedlive  Companions. 


CJH  !  could  I  tune  my  confummating  ftrain, 
To  iing  the  terrors  of  the  frozen  main, 

*'  With  other  notes  than  to  th'  Orphean  lyre!** 
Ye  Sons  of  Hades,  come,  ye  fentenc'd  throng. 
With  your  Infernal  anthem  fwell  the  fong. 

To  match  the  concert  of  the  Stygian  choir. 

Hail,  central  Horrors !  hail !  accept  the  lay ; 
No  infant  voice  ye  claim !  no  faint  effay  ! 

O  !  teach  the  Mufe  to  fweep,  with  bolder  wing. 
The  wint'ry  Gulph,  and  reach  the  world's  extreme  j 
And,  with  a  voice  that  fuits  her  dreadful  theme, 

To  bid  the  theatre  of  Hades  ring ! 

4^/»  i.  /.  3.]     Milton. 


C   362   3 
III. 

And  come,  ye  Maids !  that  haunt  Cith^ron's  grove. 
Who  taught  of  old  Amphion's  lyre  to  move 

The  lift'ning  rocks,  and  raife  the  wond'rous  wall ; 
Survey  with  me  the  dark  devoted  race, 
Whofe  hideous  files  pofTefs  the  central  fpace. 

And  curfe  the  happier  tenants  of  the  ftall ! 

IV. 

Now  from  the  lofty  wall,  the  Giant  brood 
Beheld  us  wand'ring  o*er  the  frozen  flood, 

A  dreary  polar  fcene,  extending  wide  ! 
*'  O !  ftep  with  care,"  exclaim'd  the  Mantuan  mild, 
"  Nor  hurt  the  haplefs  crew  from  Heav'n  exil'd,         1 

Whofe  fuppliant  faces  line  the  frozen  tide !" 

V. 

From  fhore  to  fhore,  the  glaffy  main  I  view'd. 
Not  fuch  the  fleeting  Froll  that  binds  the  flood 

Of  Danube  old,  or  Volga's  filent  fl:ream. 
When  brumal  rigours  feal  his  frozen  urn. 
And  o'er  his  face  the  Scythian  roams  forlorn 

In  wand'ring  hordes  beneath  the  lunar  beam. 

VI. 

Were  Pietrapana  down  in  ruin  hurl'd. 
Or  Tabernicchia  thro'  the  nether  world, 

St.  vi.  /.  i.-^Pietrapana]     An  high  hill  near  LuccA. 

St.vi.1.2. — Tabernicchia]  The  loftieft  mountain  in  Scla- 
voMiA.  For  the  fingular  afpcrity  of  the  rhymes,  I  fhall  infeit 
tlie  original  of  this  Stanza. 

Non 


C  363   1- 

By  fome  celcftial  arm  with  fury  fent, 
The  everlafting  ice  that  binds  below 
Th'  interminable  main,  would  brave  the  blow 

Beneath  th'  eternal  weio;ht  of  hills  unbent. 


't> 


VII. 

Nor  defoiate  extends  the  dreary  fpace ; 
Like  the  dark  legions  of  the  croaldng  race. 

When  the  foft  influence  of  the  Spring  they  hail  j 
With  chatt'ring  teeth,  and  ftony  eyes  aghaft, 
Immur'd  in  ice  beneath  the  bitter  blaft. 

With  rigid  faces  prone,  the  fmners  wail. 

VIII. 

The  Mantuan's  voice  my  cautious  feet  reprefl:. 
When  front  to  front,  beneath  the  wint*ry  wafte. 

With  interwoven  looks,  a  Pair  was  feen. — 
*'  Ah !  who  are  ye,  in  icy  durance  held  ?'* 
I  cry'd ;  the  Pair  their  ftony  lids  unfeal'd. 

And  filent  gaz'd  around  with  penfive  mien. 

IX. 

Scarce  had  their  op'ning  eyes  reliev'd  their  pain. 
When  forth  a  briny  torrent  gufh'd  amain  ; 


Non  fece  al  corfo  fuo  fi  groflb  velo, 
Di  verno  la  Danoia  in  Auftericch 
Ne  1  Tanai  fotto  il  fredoo  cielo 
Com  'era  quivi;  chcefe  Tabernicch 
Vifcoffe  fu  caduto  o  Pietrapana 
Men  avria  pur  del  Orlo  faltto  Cricch. 

Keen 


C   364   ] 

Keen  breath*d  the  gale,  and  froze  the  falling  tide  : 
In  vain  they  flrove  their  rigid  eyes  to  clofe, 
From  the  fcal'd  orb  the  flern  fuffufion  grows, 

And  witli  long  icicles  their  heads  divide. 

X. 

Furious  with  pain,  their  clafliing  fronts  engage. 
A  third,  with  ears  retrenched,  beheld  their  rage, 

And  cry'd,  "  Why  gaze  ye  thus  with  fell  delight 
On  others'  pain  ? — ^but  here,  perhaps,  you  flay. 
To  know  the  caufe  of  their  unnat'ral  fray,- 

And  why  the  brethren  mix  in  mortal  fighf. 

XI. 

"  Old  Falterona's  vale  their  fire  pofTefs'd, 
And  to  the  brethren  left  the  rich  bequeft ; 

By  mutual  wounds  the  bloody  brethren  fell : 
like  the  twin-partners  of  Boeotia's  throne, 
Eath  brother  wifh'd  to  rule,  and  rule  alone. 

And  plung'd  together  to  the  depths  of  Hell. 

XII. 

"  Nor  holds  Caina  in  her  frozen  flood 

A  fouler  Pair,  nor  deeper  ftain'd  with  blood ; 

St.  xi.  /.  3.]  Thefe  were  the  fonsof  Alberti  di  Falteron-a, 
who  being  left  joint  heirs,  and  quarrelling  about  their  patrimony, 
agreed  to  decide  the  affair  by  fingle  combat,  and  fell  by  mutual 
wounds.    Landing* 

Not 


C   365   ] 

Not  Arthur's  fon,  with  parricide  defilM  ; 
Not  ftern  Foccaccia,  who  his  Uncle  flew, 
Nor  Mascheron,  whofe  head  obftrufts  the  view^ 

Beneath  an  hoary  mafque  of  winter  pilM. 

xin. 

And  tell  (If  yet  my  name  ye  wifli  to  know) 
Trivigna's  Lord,  that  Pazzi  waits  below. 

And  longs  to  fee  him  fill  the  frozen  feat  : 
For  tho  a  Father's  blood  my  -poniard  dfd^ 
A  darker  lot^  to  parricides  deny*d. 

Waits  the  AJfaJJln  of  bis  parent  Jiate  P^ 

XIV. 

Onward  we  pafs  the  dumb,  devoted  throng, 
Where,  cas'd  in  blue,  chryftalline  fpheres,  along, 

St.  xii.  /.  3. — Arthur's  fon]  Mordred,  Arthur's  fon  by  his 
own  fifter,  who  killed  his  father  in  battle.  See  Morte  d'Arthur, 
part  the  laft.  See  alfo  Reliques  of  Ancient  Poetry,  vol.  iii.  feries 
the  firft,  for  the  Story  of  the  death  of  Arthur. 

St.  xii.  /.  4 — Foccaccia]  Of  the  Family  of  Cancelieri, 
at  Pistoia.  Befides  the  affaffination  of  his  Uncle,  he  was  guilty 
of  an  inhuman  deed  upon  a  near  relation,  which  was  the  occafion 
of  the  quarrel  between  the  Black  and  White  Faftions.  Ma- 
chiavel.     Villani.     See  Flor.  Hift.  annexed. 

St.  xii.  /.  5. — Mascheron]  Another  Florentine,  who  is 
faid,  in  the  fame  quarrel,  to  have  killed  his  Uncle. 

St.  xiii.  /.  2 — Trivigna's  Zor^/]  Carlino,  a  Guelf,  who  be- 
trayed Castel  Riano  to  the  Ghibellines  for  afumof  money. 

Pazzi.]  Camiscione  Pazzi,  aiiother  who  was  guilty  of 
parricide  in  the  fame  conteft.  See  Roscoe's  Life  of  Lorenz^ 
di  Medici. 

A  thoufand 


C   366   ] 

A  thoufand  heads  the  giifl'ning  valley  filPd ; 
A  gaunt  and  wolvifh  tribe !  the  central  coafl 
We  fought ;  the  region  of  eternal  frofl, 

Whofe  cold  and  Gorgon  hand  my  bofom  chilFd. 

XV. 

The  difembodied  Spirit  fled  before, 
I  foUow'd  clofe  along  the  difmal  fhore; 

But  whether  led  by  fate,  or  fortune's  fp'te, 
Heedlefs  I  {tumbled  o'er  an  helmed  brow. 
That,  cas*d  in  ice  among  the  tribes  below. 

And  rifmg  in  the  path,  efcap'd  my  fight. 

XVI. 

With  dull  and  hollow  found  the  helmet  rung.  Mm 

And  chill  amazement  feiz'd  my  fault'rnig  tongue 

As  thus  the  captive  cry'd,  "  Inhuman  !  fay. 
What  Fury  leads  thee  thro'  the  wint'ry  found. 
To  aid  our  pangs,  and  double  wound  on  wound  ? 

Is  this  the  meed  of  Montaperti's  day  ? 

XVII. 
Dubious  I  flood,  and  thus  the  Mantuan  pray'd  :— 
*'  O !  may  I  flop,  till  this  devoted  Shade 

Si.xvi.  1.  6.]  Or  Valdarbia,  where  the  Guelfs  were  be- 
trayed into  an  ambufcade,  and  defeated  with  a  great  daughter. 
BoccA  Abati,  a  Guelf  leader,  who  is  fo  iinwiUing  here  to  dif- 
cover  himfelf,  had  been  previoufly  corrupted  by  the  Ghibellines, 
and  in  the  heat  of  the  engagement  killed  the  Guelf.ian  Standard- 
bearer,  which  threw  the  Guelfs  into  immediate  confufion,  and  the 
tGhibellines  gained  the  viftory.  Villani,  Machiavel.  See  Canto  X. 
Notes,  and  Flor.  Hift.  anne2;ed. 

Refolve 


C   367   ] 

Refolve  my  doubts,  and  eafe  my  lab'iing  thought  !*' 
He  flood.  "  Now,  Traitor,  tell  thy  crimes,"  I  cry'd, 
*'  And  thou !"  the  deep  blafpheming  voice  reply*d, 

*'  Say,  why  thou  troubleft  thus  Antenor's  lot  ?-— 

xvm.  . 

**  Scarce  could  a  mortal  give  fo  ftrong  a  blow  !'*— 
"  Fear  not,"  I  cry'd,  "  thy  fellow  mortal  know. 

And  one  empower'd  to  give  eternal  fame."— 
*'  Eternal  Furies  firfh  thy  Soul  invade ! 
Ere  thou  allur'ft  me  from  Oblivion's  Ihade ! — 

Avaunt !  nor  feek  to  aggravate  my  fhame  1" 

XIX. 
Fail  by  the  locks  I  feiz'd  the  wretch  forlorn  :— 
*'  Difclofe  thy  name !  or  thy  foul  ringlets  torn, 

Thou  Traitor  Slave !  the  forfeit  foon  (hall  pay." 
"  Let  all  thy  fury  on  my  head  defcend !" 
He  cry'd,  "  and  from  the  roots  my  treffes  rend. 

My  name  lliall  ne'er  adorn  a  Poet's  lay.'* 

XX. 

Loudly  he  rall'd,  and  curs'd  my  cruel  hand. 

At  length,  flow  murm'ring  o'er  the  frozen  ftrand, 

Thofe  welcome  founds  were  heard j — "  Sage  Bocca, 
tell. 
What  Stygian  note  has  chang'd  thy  human  voice  i? 
— Curfe  on  that  canine  yell !  that  jarring  noife  !         '*' 

Say,  does  fome  Fiend  invade  thy  frozen  cell  ?" 

S/.  xvii.  /.  6.]  This  infernal  diltrift  is  fo  named  from  Antenor, 
who  is  faid  to  have  betrayed  Trov  to  the  Greeks.  DIdys  Cre- 
lenfis.  3 


[    36S    ] 

XXI. 

"  Villain  1"  1  cry'd,  "  at  length  I  know  thy  crime! 
That  name  accurs'd,  in  fweet  Hesperia's  clime 

In  fpite  of  thee  (hall  live." — *'  Nor  mine  alone,'* 
The  Felon  cry'd,  "  behold  Duera  near. 
Feels  the  new  rigours  of  the  polar  year. 

And  Vallombrosa  fits,  with  eyes  of  ftonel 

XXII. 
*'  The  ice  in  vain  his  fever'd  neck  conceals, 
Mag  AN  z  A  near  his  warped  look  reveals. 

With  him  who  late  the  Tuscan  army  fold : 
There  Tribaldello  like  a  Gorgon  glares. 
And  in  foul  dreams  Faenza's  plunder  fhares ; 

Faenza  !  fold  by  night  for  Celtic  gold. 

XXIII. 
Far  thence,  an  hideous  Pair,  together  clung. 
Still  on  the  head  before  the  hindmoft  hung, 

St.  xxi.  /.  4. — Duera]  Lieutenant  of  Manfred;  wFio,  as  femi 
fey,  incited  by  jealoufy  of  Manfred's  attachment  to  his  v\4fe;  or  (as 
others  pretend)  gained  by  French  gold,  gave  up  the  pafs  of  Par- 
MEGiANO  to  Charles  of  Anjod,  which  coft  Manfred  his  hfe. 
See  Hift.  Flor. 

St.  xxi.  /.  6. — Vallombrosa]  The  Pope's  Legate  at  Flo- 
rence, who,  being  detefted  in  a  confpiracy  lo  introduce  the  Ghi- 
bellines  and  cnirti  the  Guelfs,  was  beheaded. 

St.  xxii.  /.  2. — Maganza]  The  famous  Gano,  who  betrayed 
the  Chriftian  ?irmy  at  Roncesvalles.  See  Canto  XXXL  Notes. 

St.  xxii.  /.  3. — With  him']  Another  Florentine  traitor.  He  was 
a  Ghibelline. 

St.  xxii.  /.  4.— -Tribald^ello]  A  Ghibelline,  who  opened 
the  gate  of  Faenza  to  the  French,  who  were  brought  by  Mar- 
tin IV.  to  fupprefs  the  Ghibelline  faftion. 


C   369   ] 

With  faften'd  fangs,  and  quafF'd  the  ftreaming  gore, 
Juft  where  the  hairy  fcalp  begins  to  join 
The  fuppliant's  bending  neck,  with  rage  canine 

The  furious  cannibal  his  captive  tore. 

XXIV. 

The  Furies  thus,  by  fad  Ismeno's  flood. 
Saw  Tydeus  quench  his  ire  in  hoftile  blood; 

"  O  thou !  whom  man's  benignant  race  difclaims,'* 
I  cry'd,  "  a  while  thy  horrid  feaft  forego ! 
Say,  why  th*  eternal  fibres  feem  to  grow. 

And  why  the  hideous  wound  for  ever  ftreams  ? 

XXV. 

"  Perhaps  the  old  tradition  of  his  crime 
Lies  buried  long  beneath  the  riift  of  Time  j 

Be  mine  at  leaft  to  tell,  in  open  day. 
The  traitor's  deeds,  and  clear  thy  injur'd  name: 
For  the  long  paffes  to  eternal  fame 

Are  ever  open  to  the  Mufe*s  lay.** 

St.  xxiv.  /.  ^.-^korrid  fcaji-l  Alludes  to  the  Storj'- of  Tydeus, 
who,  being  wounded  mortally  by  Menalippus  at  Thebes,  had 
his  enemy  flaiil,  his  head  brought  to  him,  and  died  in  the  favage 
wanner  here  defcribed. 


£ND   OF   THE    THIRTY-SECOND    CANTOi 


VoL.  I.  B  b 


4   ':>T^    J 


CANTO  THE  TlIIRTY-TlltRD. 


Argument. 

The  Poet  meets  the  Soul  of  Uggholino,  Count  of  Pisa,  in  the 
Gulph  of  Antenora,  Who  had  fallen  a  facrifice  to  the  faftious 
Arts  of  RuGGiERi  UbaldinO)  the  Archbifhop  of  Pisa.  The 
condemned  Spirit  gives  him  a  moft  affedling  Detail  of  the  laft 
Scene  of  his  Life.  Thence  the  Poet  proceeds  ftill  on  towards  the 
Centre  ;  and  in  the  way  takes  a  tranfient  Survey  of  the  Ptolk- 
MEAN  Sound,  where  the  Souls  of  thofe  who  had  joined  Ingra- 
titude with  Treafon  are  punifhed. 


I^LOWLY  the  finner  left  his  bloody  meal. 
Then,  gazing  upwards  from  the  depths  of  Hell, 

He  fmooth'd  the  clotted  hair,  and  thus  reply*d  : 
"  Mortal !  thou  bid'ft  me  recolleft  my  doom. 
An  horrid  fcene  !  that  lives  beyond  the  tomb. 

And  flops  my  fpeech  with  fofrow's  whelming  tidei 

II. 

*'  And,  oh  !  if  aught  it  grieves  the  fentenc^d  dead  j 
In  other  worlds  their  infamy  to  fpread. 

Attend — ^but  firfl  the  gufliing  tear  will  flow : 
I  know  not  whence  thou  art,  nor  whofe  command 
Sent  thee,  a  mortal,  to  the  frozen  ftrand. 

To  view  the  wonders  of  the  world  below* 
B  b  2 


C    372  J 
III. 

"  Thou  fpcak'ft  the  Tuscan  tongue !  then,  Mortal, 
A  flory,  yet  unknown  to  human  ear !  Qiear 

The  fad  detail  of  Uggholino's  fate : 
Here  the  curs*d  Prelate,  by  whofe  arts  I  fell. 
Still  feeds  my  vengeance  in  the  depths  of  Hell, 

The  joint  betrayer  of  my  parent  Hate. 

IV. 

"  Haply  thy  young  remembrance  yet  may  trace 
The  deadly  rancour  of  Sismqndi's  race. 

And  how  this  Prelate  fann'd  the  gen*ral  flame : 
The  man,  who  firft  my  confidence  abus'd  ; 
Yes,  Traitor,  thou  !  'twas  thou  thy  friend  accus'd. 

Led  him  aftray,  and  then  divulg'd  his  fliame. 

St.  iv.  /.  6.]     A  Nobleman  of  Pisa,  of  the  FamUy  of  Gho- 
RARDESCA,  z  Guelf.     But  the  Ghibelline  Faftion,  being  powerful 
in  Pisa,  ambition  compelled  him  to  make  an  unnatural  Coalition 
with  RuGGiERO  DE  Ubaldini,  Bifhop  of  PiSA,  and  head  of  the 
Imperial   FaAion,  againft  his  own  Nephew,  Nino  de  Gallusa, 
Lord  of  Pisa.     Under  pretence  of  mal-adminiftration,  they  ba- 
nifhed  Nino,  and  Uggholino  obtained  the  Government;    but 
this  portentous  alliance  did  not  long  continue.     A  kinfman  of  Ug- 
GHOLiNO,  and  one  of  Ruggiero,  were  rivals  for  the  affeftions 
of  a   Lady,   and   in   an  unfortunate  rencounter  Ubaldino    was 
killed.     This  bred  diflention  between  the  Famihes,  which,  joined 
with  envy  of  Uggholino's  exalted  ftation,  induced  Ruggiero 
to  betray  the  fecret  machinations  of  his  colleague  againft  the  State. 
He  accufed  Uggholino  of  betraying  fome  Caftles  to  the  Flo- 
rentines in  their  late  contefts  with  that  Republic.     This  raifed 
the  fury  of  the  populace  ;  and  they,  headed  by  the  Bifhop,  with  a 
crofier  in  his  hand,  and  the  heads  of  the  Famihes  of  Lanfranchi, 
SiGisMONDi,  and  Gualandi,  befet  the  Palace  of  Uggholino, 
dragged  him  and  his  four  Sons  out,  and  fliut  them  up  in  a  prifon 
in  the  Piazza  degli  Antianie,  where  they  miferably  peri&ed  by  fa- 
mine.    Villani,  lib.  v  i.  cap.  1 20. 


[    Z7Z    3 

V. 

*'  But  to  myfelf,  and  to  the  Fiends  alone, 
The  confummation  of  my  woes  are  known. 

How  terrible  and  long  I  felt  my  fate ! 
When  in  the  doleful  tow'r  of  famine  pent. 
For  treafon  built,  a  gloomy  tenement. 

With  my  four  guiltlefs  fons  I  drooping  fat. 

VI. 

*'  The  firfl:  fad  night  I  pad,  unknown  to  lleep, 
The  circling  hours  beheld  me  wake  and  weep  5 

'Till  thro*  an  op'ning  of  my  gloomy  goal. 
When  now  the  flaming  couriers  of  the  night 
On  day*s  fair  confines  quench'd  their  waning  light, 

With  pale  and  ominous  dawn  the  morning  dole. 

VII, 

^'  That  moment  firft  beheld  my  eyelids  clofe, 
A  fliort,  fad  refpite  to  my  ling*ring  woes ; 

But  dire,  prophetic  dreams  the  curtain  drew. 
And  fliewM  my  doom  at  large  !  Methought  I  Itood 
^nd  faw  a  Wolf  along  the  plain  purfu'd, 

While  this  infernal  Priefl  the  bugle  blew. 

VIII. 
**  Thence,  with  her  whelps  (he  fought  the  Julian  fleep, 
But  Lanfranc  feem'd  the  woody  pafs  to  keep  ; 

SiSMONDi's  Chiefs,  and  thofeof  Gualand's  name, 
Their  fleet  and  famifli'd  pack  of  blood-hounds  join'd, 
Which  clos*d  the  trembling  prey  before,  behind ; 
Faften'd  at  once,  and  tore  the  favage  game.'* 
Bb3 


C     374    ] 

IX, 

**  Ere  fniiling  Morn  had  purpled  o'er  the  fky 
I  woke,  and  heard  my  children  faintly  cry. 

And  all  demanding  food,  tho'  flill  afleep : 
Thy  heart  is  marble,  if  a  father's  woe 
It  feels  not  now !  what  bids  your  forrows  flow. 

If  for  fuch  dire  diflrefs  you  fail  to  weep  ? 

X. 

"  They  woke  at  laft,  and  now  the  time  drew  nigh 
That  brought  their  morning  meal — a  fcant  fupply ! 

A  fad  prefage  m  ev*ry  bofom  grew. 
As  they  recalFd  their  dreams.     Juft  then,  below, 
A  hand  relentlefs  lock'd  the  den  of  woe  ; 

And  on  my  fojis  a  fe^ful  glance  I  threw. 

XL 

*'  No  word  from  me  was  heard,  or  plaintive  groan, 
Methought  I  felt  my  heart  congeal  to  ftone : 

They  wept.'*     At  laft,  my  fweet  Anselmo  cry'd, 
*'  What  ails  my  Father  ?  what  a  piteous  look 
You  caft  around  !"     My  heart  with  horror  fhook. 

Yet  nought  to  their  fad  queftions  I  reply'd, 

xn. 

Thus  pafs'd  the  cheerlefs  day  and  lingering  night  j 
At  laft,  the  fecond  mom's  afcending  light 

Sent  thro'  the  doleful  gloom  a  dubious  ray : 
Reflefted  on  each  face,  it  feem'd  to  fhew 
The  marks  of  my  defpair,  in  frantic  woe 

From  my  bare  arms  my  flefh  I  tore  away. 


C    375    1 

xm. 

At  once  they  call  with  agonizing  cries : 

**  Let  us  fupply  your  want — but  fpare  our  eyes ; 

Lefs  anguifli  will  we  feel  the  means  to  give 
Of  life,  than  fuch  a  fight  again  to  view ! 
Thofe  members  you  bellow'd,  reclaim  your  due  ! 

And  let  our  limbs  afford  the  means  to  live  !'* 

XIV. 

Unwilling  thus  to  aggravate  their  woes. 
Gloomy  and  calm,  attendant  on  the  clofe 

Of  all  our  pangs,  I  fate,  revolving  flow  ; 
Two  days  fucceed — the  fourth,  pale  morning  broke, 
«  O  Father,  help  !  I  feel  the  deadly  ftroke  !" 

My  Gaddo  cry'd,  and  funk  beneath  the  blow  ! 

XV. 

*'  Another,  and  another  mom  beheld  : 

Three  yet  remain.     At  length,  by  Fate  compell'd, 

On  the  cold  pavement  one  by  one  expired. 
Groveling  amongft  the  dead,  of  fight  deprived  j 
Two  lingering  days  of  torture  I  furviv*d, 

And  tardy  fate,  with  fupplication  tir'd. 

XVI. 

*'  O'er  each  lov'd  face  my  hands  fpontaneous  flray*d. 
And  oft*  I  call'd  each  dear  departed  fhade : 

Aflail'd  by  walling  want,  with  grief  combinM, 
Gaunt  famine  long  had  try'd  its  pow*rs  in  vain  j 
But  mortal  grief  at  lail  reliev'd  my  pain. 

And  with  cold  hand  the  vital  thread  untwin'd." 
Bb4 


xvn. 

lie  ended  Hem,  and  to  his  dire  repafl: 

Turn*d  with  malignant  look,  and  furious  hafle, 

Like  a  {launch  blood-hound  to  his  favage  game. 
' — ^Ye  tow'rs  of  Pifa !  iiiay  Gorgona*s  flrand. 
With  lofty  mounds  the  coming  flood  withjftand. 

And  fend  it  foaming  down  to  whelm  thy  Ihame^ 

xvin. 

If  HuGOLiNE  his  native  realm  betray'd, 

The  fons  were  guiltlefs,  tho'  the  father  ftray'd  5 

My  vengeance  due  thy  giant  crimes  arrefl : 
Rival  of  Thebes !  Brigata's  tender  age. 
And  Hugo's  tears,  thy  malice  might  aflfuage. 

If  e*er  compaflion  warm*d  a  Pisan's  breaft  ! 

XIX. 
Now,  thro'  the  regions  of  eternal  frofl: 
We  travell'd  on,  and  left  Antenor's  coaft. 

Where  a'new  colony  polTefs'd  the  deep : 
Not  prone  and  abje£t  like  the  lafl  they  lay. 
But  fliew*d  their  hideous  fronts  in  open  day, 

Seeming  for  ever  bound  in  iron  ileep. 

XX. 

Fafl  flow-d  their  tears,  and  as  they  flow'd  they  froze! 
The  Gorgon  mafk  on  ev'ry  vifage  grows  ; 

And  back  their  tears  return,  and  fling  the  brain : 
While,  cvtr  and  anon,  the  bitter  blaft, 
Relentlefs  breathing  p*er  the  fullen  wafle, 

Seals  up  their  eyes,  and  aggravates  their  pain. 


C  m  ] 

XXI. 

?'  Whence  this  eternal  blafl  that  fweeps  the  fkles?" 
I  afk'd,  and  thus  the  Mantuan  Shade  replies: 

"  In  gloomy  flate,  within  the  Gulph  below. 
The  Spirit  dwells,  that  fends  the  blaft  around, 
firft  of  the  Fiends !  on  Hell's  extremeft  bound. 

Where  the  mylterious  caufe  thou  foon  llialt  know. 

XXII. 

*'  O  ye !  who  ftill  exped  your  dubious  doom, 
(A  Spirit  cry'd,  within  his  frozen  tomb) 

Remove  this  mafk,  and  let  my  forrow  flow  j 
•— 'TIs  all  I  alk — ^a  tranfient  fmall  relief. 
Before  my  tears  congeal,  and  choke  my  grief. 

To  cafe  my  bofom  of  its  load  of  woe." 

XXIII. 

My  Guide  returned :  "  If  we  neglect  thy  pray'r. 
Soon  may  we  reach  the  gulph  of  fad  defpair  5 

But  firft  thy  country  and  thy  crime  difclofe : 
Thy  crime  is  known,  for  Alberigo's  fame 
Was  high,  till  late  he  earned  a  Traitor's  name, 

Paid  for  his  treafon  with  eternal  woes." 

St.  xxiii.  /.  4. — Alberigo]  A  Member  of  a  celebrated  So- 
ciety, inftituted  in  the  13th  century,  by  Martin  IV.  half  cleri- 
jcal,  half  lay,  fomewhat  like  the  Knights  Templars.  They 
were  called  Frate  Godente,  or  Brothers  of  St.  Mary.  Albe- 
RiGohada  quarrel  with  fome  others  of  the  Society,  but  on  afeem- 
ing  reconciliation,  brought  about  by  fome  common  friends,  he  in- 
vited the  whole  Society  to  a  fplendid  entertainment,  and  took  care 
to  have  the  hall  beiet  with  ruffians  in  the  drefs  of  attendants.     The 

coming 


C   378   ] 

XXIV. 
"  Is  Alberigo  fairn  !'*  amaz'd,  I  faid ; 
*'  Then  ftill  above  a  difembodied  Shade 

Aflumes  thy  form." — The  guilty  Ghoft  rejoin'd, 
*'  For  ever  exil*d  from  the  bounds  of  day. 
Oft*  the  fad  Spirit  feeks  the  frozen  bay. 

And  leaves  the  limbs,  poflefs'd  of  life,  behind, 

XXV. 
'*  When  firft  the  Traitor's  foul  forfakes  its  feat, 
A  chofen  Demon  finds  the  foul  retreat. 


coming  in  of  the  deffcrt  was  the  fignal,  on  which  the  aflafOns  each 
marked  his  man,  and,  fmgUng  them  out  from  the  other  guefts,  in- 
ftantly  difpatched  them. 

The  fuppofition  in  the  following  Stanza,  that  the  confequencc 
of  fome  vices  is,  that  on  the  firft  commiffion  the  foul  forfakes  the 
body,  and  all  the  vital  funftions  are  performed  by  a  Demon,  has  at 
the  fame  time  a  ftriking  poetical  effeft,  and  includes  a  very  fine 
moral.  Some  crimes,  particularly  what  we  may  call  the  cool- 
blooded  vices,  fuch  as  Perfidy,  Ingratitude,  &c.  befpeak  fuch  a 
total  coiTuption  of  mind,  fuch  an  univerfal  depravation,  that  a  An- 
gle a(£t  of  this  kind  is  equivalent  to  a  conformed  habit  of  fomc 
other  vices.  In  other  words,  the  corruption  has  gone  its  full 
length,  the  Demon  fupplants  the  man,  and  takes  poffeflion  of  the 
whole  foul.  The  hint  feems  to  be  taken  from  that  tremendous 
pifture  in  the  Gofpel,  of  "  the  houfe  fwept  and  gamifhed  for  the 
reception  of  feven  malignant  Spirits  ;"  and  the  laft  eftate  of  that 
man  is  defcribed  as  worfe  than  the  firft.  As  the  crimes  of  thofe 
who  are  defcribed  under  punifliment  iq  thqfe  lower  departments, 
arofe  from  Sympathy  suppressed,  their  torment  is  made  to  con- 
fift  in  a  vain  effort  to  recover  it ;  and  thofe  eyes,  which  never  melted 
with  companion,  are  here  very  properly  expofed  to  the  excruciat- 
ing torture  of  freezing  tears,  or  the  bitter  refleftion  which  arofe 
in  the  mind  by  the  remembrance  of  the  feelings  of  humanity 
OYCrcome. 


I    379    1 

And  ev*ry  fundion  of  the  man  renews  ; 
To  all  his  old  allies,  the  form  polTefs'd, 
Still  feems  the  fame,  careffing  and  carefsM, 

'Till  age  or  ficknefs  fets  the  pris'ner  loofe, 

XXVI. 

"  Know,  Mortal !  with  the  firfl  felonious  deed, 
(So  may  my  flrong  and  fervent  pray'r  fucceed !) 

A  Demon  comes  to  guide  the  mortal  frame 
Below,  in  frozen  chains  the  Spirit  pines. 
And  he,  whom  yonder  wint'ry  cell  confines. 

Could  tell,  he  yet  can  boaft  the  Dorian  name. 

XXVII. 

"  What  Fiend,'*  I  cry'd,  "  can  tempt  thy  lips  to  tell 
Such  fruitlefs  falfehoods  in  the  depths  of  Hell  ? 

Still  DoRiA  lives,  and  ftill  enjoys  the  day." 
The  wretch  reply'd,  "  Remember  when  you  flood. 
And  from  the  brink  of  IJejl  in  terror  view'd 

Old  Zanco*s  foul  to  liquid  flames  a  prey. 

XXVIII. 

"  Ere  He  to  Hell  was  borne,  the  doom  had  pafl. 
And  DoRiA  felt  below  the  bitter  blaft, 

5/.  xxvii.  /.  j.-f-Doria]  Branca  Poria,  fon-In-law  to  Mi- 
chael Zanche,  Lord  of  Logoporo  (See  Canto  XXII.)  ;  who, 
to  enjoy  the  large  patrimony  deftined  to  him  by  Zanche,  (which 
had  been  acquired  by  corruption  in  a  judicial  capacity,)  poifoned 
]bis  father-in-law  at  an  entertainment.  A  Demon,  according  to 
^he  Poet,  immediately  fupplanted  the  foul,  and  performed  all  the 
vital  funftions  of  the  man. 

Si.  xxviii.  /.  I. — jCr^  He]J     Michael  Zanco,  or  Zanche. 


C  380  3 

Freezing  the  genial  current  of  his  tears : 
And  where  yon'  livid  malk  a  foul  conceab^ 
His  fellow-traitor  there  his  doom  bewails, 

A  Fiend  above  in  either  form  appears. 

XXIX. 

^'  But,  oh !  if  e*er  thy  vows  were  breath'd  in  pain, 
Let  not  thy  hand  the  pious  tafk  difdain 

To  break  the  feal,  and  bid  my  forrows  flow." 
*'  Far  be  the  tafk  profane  I"  the  Mantuan  cry*d, 
Mute  I  obey'd  my  unrelenting  Guide, 

And  darkling  fpllow'd  to  the  depths  below. 

XXX. 

Falfe  Genoa  !  claim  not  all  the  fraudful  race, 
Whofe  guilty  fquadrons  fill  the  central  fpace. 

But  fcatter  the  vile  feminary  wide  : 
No  Fiend  in  all  the  PxoLEMiEAN  coafl. 
Equals  the  foul  Ligurian's  hated  ghoft, 

Whofe  limbs  above  obey  a  Stygian  Guide^ 


IND   OF    THE   THIRTY-THIRD   CANTQ, 


C   381   3 


CANTO    THE    THIRTY-FOURTH. 


ARGUMENT. 
ITie  Poet  arrives  at  the  Station  of  the  Infernal  Monarch,  whom  he 
finds  employed  in  the  Puniftiment  of  Judas  Iscariot,  Bru- 
tus, and  Cassius,  who  are  confidered  here  as  guilty  of  the 
fame  Crime,  Ingratitude  and  Perfidy,  to  their  chief  Benefaftors* 
Thence,  direfted  by  Virgil,  he  finds  his  way  by  the  Centre, 
and  emerges  with  difficulty  in  the  other  Hemifphere,  near  the 
Mountain  of  Purgation. 


"  Yonder  the  flag  of  Erebus  unfurlM, 
Proclaims  the  Monarch  of  the  nether  world," 

The  Bard  exclaim'd,  as  now  the  fogs  profound, 
Difperfmg  flow  before  the  rifmg  gale, 
Difclos*d,  what  feem*d  a  tow'r  with  fliifting  fail. 

And  warring  tempefts  fwept  her  vans  around. 

11. 

Shook  from  his  wings  the  fell  Tornado  grew. 
And  all  the  hideous  fcene  difclos'd  to  view, 

Beat  with  eternal  fliorms,  a  barren  coaft  ! 
Half  in  the  whirlwind  feiz'd,  the  Spirit  caught 
His  trembling  charge,  and  o'er  the  furface  brought 

With  rapid  wafture  to  the  central  poil, 

I 


t  382  3 

III. 

Oh  !  could  the  Mufe  defcribe  in  equal  flrain 
The  horrors  of  the  wide  Cerulean  plain. 

For  ever  glazM  beneaili  tlie  Boreal  blaft ! 
The  various  poflures  of  the  tribes  that  lay- 
In  filent  fhoals,  beneath  the  frozen  bay. 

The  lowefl  tenants  of  the  wint'ry  wafle  I 

IV. 
Some  fho\v*d  their  heels  aloft,  a/id  fome  the  heaci^ 
And  fome  recumbent  on  their  frozen  bed. 

In  proftrate  files  poffefs'd  the  middle  deep ; 
"While  bending  fome,  with  head  and  heels  conjoined, 
Afunder  each  in  cryflal  cells  confin'd. 

Feel  thro'  their  reins  the  icy  horrors  creep. 

V. 

Their  rigid  lips  were  feal'd  in  dumb  defpair. 
Their  (lony  eyes,  unconfcious  of  a  teaf, 

Glar'd  as  we  pafs'd,  but  now  the  infernal  Sire, 
Ken*d  from  afar,  his  port  majeftic  Ihew'd, 
"  There  fills  the  Foe  of  Man  bis  dire  abode. 

Go  I  and  may  Heav'n  thy  finking  foul  infpire  [*' 

VI. 

He  fpoke — the  gloomy  Chief  in  Hades  fear'd, 
'Midll  plaintive  flirieks,  and  warring  winds,  appeared,- 

5/.  iv.  /.  6.J     Thofe  who  had  been  guilty  of  Perfidy,  aggravated 
ty  Ingratitude,  to  their  Benefaftors.     The  principal  of  whom  are 

Judas,  Brutus,  andCASsius. i-N.  B.-  The  Poet  was  now  nb 

more  a  RepubUcan,  but  had  incited  Henry  of  Luxembur.gh  to 
invade  FlobtEnce,  and  renew  the  Imperial Fa^lion. 

While 


C   383   ] 

While  nature  thro*  my  nerves  convulfive  fhook : 
New  palfies  felz'd  my  agonizing  frame, 
And  glowing  now  I  felt  the  fever*s  flame. 

While  life  and  death  by  turns  my  limbs  forfook. 

VII. 
Half  from  the  central  Gulph  he  feemM  to  fpring. 
But  Phlegra's  Giant  brood,  and  Babel's  King, 

To  pigmies  funk  before  the  Stygian  Lord  : 
Lefs  to  the  Monarch  of  the  frozen  main 
They  feem*d,  than  I  to  that  gigantic  train. 

When  late  my  fuppliant  pray*r  their  aid  implor'd. 

VIII. 
If  his  meridian  glories,  ere  he  fell, 
Equal'd  his  horrible  eclipfe  in  Hell, 

No  brighter  Seraph  led  the  heav*nly  hoft : 
And  now,  a  tenant  of  the  frozen  tide. 
The  Rebel  juftly  merits  to  prefide 

O'er  all  the  horrors  of  the  Stygian  coaft. 

IX. 

Six  fhadowy  wings  inveft  his  Ihoulders  wide, 
A  Gorgon  face  appear'd  on  either  fide. 

And  one  before,  that  feem*d  with  rage  to  burn  ; 
Rancour  with  fullen  hue  the  next  o'ercaft. 
And  Envy's  jaundic'd  look  diftain'd  the  laft 

With  Grief,  that  feem'd  at  others'  joy  to  mourn, 

X. 

He  wav*d  his  fail-broad  wings,  and  woke  the  ftorm, 
CocYTus  fliudder'd  thro'  her  tribes  deform, 

That 


C   384   ] 

That  felt  the  freezmg  pow'r  in  ev*ry  gale  j 
iLeen,  polar  blails  around  his  pinions  fleet, 
And  o'er  the  region  fift  th*  eternal  fleet, 

And  mould,  with  many  a  guft,  the  beating  haiL 

XL 

i)ifguis'd  in  gore  the  gloomy  Chieftain  fl:cod,"^ 
From  ev'ry  mouth  diftill'd  the  fl:reaming  blood. 

And  lamentations  loud  and  piercing  cries 
Were  heard  within. — His  triple  jaws  divide, 
And  fliew  his  deadly  fangs  on  either  fide, 

And  each  a  fmner's  blood  in  crimfon  dyes. 

xn. 

We  faw  the  pris'ners  force  their  bloody  way. 
We  faw  his  marble  jaws  with  deadly  fway, 

At  once  defcend  and  crufli  them  in  their  flight : 
Half  feen  again,  the  wretch  for  mercy  calls, 
High-pois'd  again,  the  ponderous  engine  falls, 

And  chums  their  quiv'ring  limbs  with  fl:em  delight. 

xni. 

*'  IscARioT  there,"  the  mighty  Mantuan  cry'd, 
*'  In  dol*rous  pangs  atones  his  parricide  ! 

Hark  1  how  he  yells  within,  and  flings  abroad 
His  fliruggling  feet !  in  fullen  fortitude 
Here  Brutus  lies  by  torture  unfubdu'd. 

And  Cassius  bathes  his  mighty  limbs  in  blood  !'■ 

XIV. 

*'  Here  ends  our  long  furvey — ^for  now  above 
Young  Hesper  lights  his  evening  lamp  of  love. 


C   385   ] 

And  calls  lis  upwards  to  the  bounds  of  day : 
Kow  other  worlds  our  weary  fteps  invite 
Another  paffage  to  the  bounds  of  light, 

Up  to  the  world,  a  long  laborious  way." 

He  gave  the  fign,  and  foon  with  pious  haficj 
I  clung  around  his  neck,  and  bending  waift  j 

Then,  tow* rd  the  Fiend,  he  bore  his  trembling  charge^ 
And,  when  he  faw  his  mighty  wings  difplay'd, 
Boldly  he  plungM  beneath  the  waving  fhade. 

And  feiz'd  his  fhaggy  back,  and  fhoulders  large,  ■ 

XVL 

Thence,  foft  and  flow,  his  giant  Tides  along 
He  bore  his  load,  'till  from  his  cindure  hung, 

We  faw  beneath  the  (helving  ice  divide ; 
Then,  plung'd  at  once  amid  the  central  womb. 
And,  trembling,  pafs*d  the  unfubftantial  gloomj 

Where  Worlds  met  worlds  around  the  difmal  void. 

xvii* 

At  once  I  found  my  Guide  his  hold  forego, 
And  turn  with  labour  to  the  world  of  woe : 

His  fhifting  feet,  as  if  again  to  try 
With  long  repeated  fearch  the  frozen  found, 
"  Prepare  with  me,"  he  cry'd,  "  to  climb  around 

Thofe  giant  limbs  that  feem  to  prop  the  fky. 

XVIII. 
"  Now  turn,  and  try  this  colunm'd  height  to  fcale," 
The  Bard  exclaim'd,  as  from  th«  difmal  vale. 
Vol.  I.  Cc 


C   386   ] 

Thro*  a  ^^'Ide  arch  of  adamant  we  prefs'd : 
Awhile  he  flood  the  wondrous  fcene  to  view. 
Then  up  with  pain  his  mortal  burden  drew. 

And  both  a  moment  feiz'd  of  welcome  reflr 

XIX. 

Then  gazing  upwards  from  our  fhelving  feat. 
We  faw  the  Stygian  Lord's  inverted  ftate. 

His  feet  fublime,  and  head  depending  far  : 
Now  weigh,  ye  tribes  of  earth  !  my  lengthened  toil  ^ 
Think  with  what  pain  I  pafsM  the  central  ifle. 

And  crofs*d  with  weary  limbs  the  mighty  bar, 

XX. 

"  Arife !"  the  Bard  exclaim'd ;  "  the  mounting  fun 
Expedts  to  meet  us  ere  his  race  be  run. 

And  long  and  difmal  lies  the  way  to  light ! 
No  fplendid  palace  fronts  the  flow'ry  path. 
But  cliffs  of  horrid  height,  and  fhades  of  death. 

And  hov'ring  dread,  and  everlafling  night. 

XXL 

"  O  Sire !"  I  cryM,  "  thefe  wondrous  things  explain. 
How  pafs*d  we  unawares  the  frozen  main  ? 

And  why  fufpends  the  Fiend  his  feet  above  ? 
What  Angel's  fpeed  has  urg'd  the  flar  of  day 
So  fudden  to  relume  his  morning  ray. 

Since  Hesper  woke  his  ev'ning  lamp  of  love?'' 

XXIL 
"  Suppofe  the  centre  pafl,"  the  Poet  faid, 
**  Since  firfl  at  yonder  point  I  tum'd  my  head, 

St.  xxi.  /.  6.]   Alluding  to  what  the  Poet  had  faid  Stanza  IV. 


C   387   ] 

And  laboring  feet  on  Satan's  fcaly  fide  : 
Thither  unforc'd  you  funk  with  downward  weight. 
With  labour  now  you  climb  the  ftony  ftrait, 

Tho'  I  fuftain  you  thro*  the  gloomy  void. 

XXIII. 

*'  Beneath  our  feet  the  plains  of  Asia  licf  zdlcu  !f;: 
There  Palestine  furveys  the  nether  flvy, 

Where  bled  the  sinless  man  a  world  to  fave  ; 
Pale  ev'ning  there  afcends,  in  fob6r  grey. 
While  here  the  niorning  points  a  purple  ray. 

And  gilds  with  hght  the  broad  antardic  wave* 

XXIV. 

"  AroUnd  the  centre  fteeps  the  frozen  lloodj 
Where  Satan  ftands  embath'd  in  Traitors  blood  5 

His  giarit  limbs  the  meeting  worlds  unite : 
Flaming  from  yonder  fouthern  fky  he  fell, 
The  plain  broke  inwards,  and  thro'  lowed  Hell 

Before  him  fled,  'till  Asia  ftopp'd  her  flight. 

Ixv. 

*'  Portentous  there  it  rofe,  a  facred  hill. 
Where  angel  hands  their  richefl;  balm  diftilj 

And  Mary's  fon  reclin'd  his  facred  head  ; 
Nor  ceas'd  the  central  fliock,  'till,  hither  boriie. 
Another  hill  its  horrid  way  had  torn. 

Which  overlooks  afar  its  oozy  bed.'* 

XXVI. 
Now  many  a  league  above  the  wint'ry  found 
We  hung,  and  darknefs  hover'd  {lill  around : 

C  G   3 


[     388     ] 

Yet  on  we  pafs*d,  admoni(h*d  by  the  ear ; 
For  hoarfe  and  difmal  thro'  the  gloomy  fteep, 
A  falling  torrent  fought  the  central  deep. 

Thro*  many  a  rifted  rock,  and  ftony  fphore. 

XXVII. 

Still  up  the  wave-worn  cliff  the  Mantuan  prefs'd^ 
I  followed  faint,  deny*d  a  moment's  reft  ; 

'Till  dim  and  dubious  thro'  the  rocks  on  high, 
A  ray  of  welcome  light  difclos'd  our  path  ; 
Joyful  we  left  the  fhadowy  realms  of  death, 

And  hail'd  the  op'ning  glories  of  the  &y. 


END  OF  THE  INFERNO  OF  DANTE, 


SUMMARY  VIEW 


OF    THE 


PLATONIC   DOCTRINE, 

WITH  RESPECT  TO  A  FUTURE  STATE, 


Scott's  Christian  Life,  Part  I.  Chap.  iii. 
Page  1 8— -74.  FdI.  Edit. 


Cc3 


C   391    ] 


J.  SHALL  here  give  the  Reader  an  opportunity  of 
comparing  the  Firfl  Part  of  Scoit*s  Chrijiian  Life, 
Chap.  in.  with  the  view  of  futurity  given  by  Dante. 
—Dr.  Scott  was  very  much  admired  at  the  beginning 
of  this  century ;  though  his  language,  like  Dante's, 
is  fometimes  debafed  by  vulgar  idioms,  his  reafoning 
is  clofe,  and  his  fancy  vigorous.  He  indeed  affumes 
fome  proportions  without  defcending  to  the  proof,  and 
reafons  from  them  j  but  his  affumptions,  when  exa- 
mined, are  found  fufficiently  evident.  The  Platonic 
doftrine,  that  fouls  ftill  retain  the  habits  they  had  ac- 
quired while  in  the  body,  is  by  him  purfued  through 
all  its  confequences,  and  carried  further  than  any 
other  author  has  done.  He  has  flipwn,  that  the  re^ 
prefentations  of  futurity  are  not  merely  the  fuperfll- 
tious  dreams  of  a  difordered  fancy,  but  that  eveiy  man 
carries  the  feeds  of  eternal  happinefs  or  mifery  in  his 
own  mind  j  and  that  reprefentations  of  futurity  may 
be  founded  on  the  ftricteft  reafoning,  equally  tre,. 
mpndous  with  the  wildeft  pidures  of  fancy.     His  re- 

C  c  4  prefent- 


[    39*     ] 

prefentations  only  want  to  be  diverfifled  with  proper 
characters  and  incidents,  and  connected  into  one  view 
to  make  a  Poem,  fuperior  perhaps  to  any  on  the  fub- 
jeft.  It  was  a  lofs  to  Dante,  that  fuch  a  Writer  had 
not  appeared  before  his  time ;  he  would  probably  have 
fuggefled  new  profpe£ts,  new  adventures,  and  new 
charafters. 

One  pofition  that  this  Divine  alTumes,  without  de- 
fcending  to  the  proof,  and  what  he  builds  fome  of  his 
bell  reprefentations  upon,  is,  that  in  the  other  world 
Spirits  departed  will  naturally  affociate  themfelves  with 
others  of  a  like  difpofition.  This,  I  think,  deferv^es  a 
little  examination,  as  a  great  part  of  his  fyllem  de- 
pends upon  it. — ^We  can  only  judge  of  the  effecls  of 
habit  in  a  future  (late  of  exiflence,  from  its  effects  in 
this  world.  Let  us  examine  what  is  the  principal  at- 
tradion  of  fociety  here,  particularly  what  induces  men 
to  make  thofe  intimate  connexions  which  we  gene- 
rally call  Friendfhip,  and  which  indeed  deferves  the 
name'  in  a  fubordinate  fenfe.  It  is  neither  mutual  en- 
tertainment, nor  mutual  information  alone,  but  princi- 
pally a  concurrence  of  fentiment.  A  man  of  wit  is 
never  fo  much  at  his  eafe  in  the  company  of  another 
man  of  wit,  as  with  a  man  who  fhews  the  effedt  of  his 
fallies  by  the  moft  genuine  marks  of  admiration.  He 
looks  upon  a  hearty  fit  of  laughter,  as  the  belt  equiva- 
lent for  his  bon  mot :  his  jeft  retorted  by  another,  is  like 
verfe  paid  with  verfe;  but  the  man  that  laughs  at  his  jeft, 
enters  into  his  fentiment,  and  they  have  that  fpecies  of 
fympathy  that  forms  a  fort  of  mutual  attra£lion; 
J  which. 


C    393    ] 

which,  if  it  does  not  end  in  friendfliip,  at  leafl:  con- 
ftitutes  familiarity. — If  he  prefer  the  company  of  men 
of  talents,  the  pleafure  does  not  arife  fo  much  from 
the  information  he  receives,  as  from  the  confcioufnefs 
that  they  think  alike  upon  their  favourite  fubjecls ;  and 
that  habit  has  turned  their  ideas  into  the  fame  chan- 
nel. This  is  the  cafe  with  the  virtuous  and  vicious, 
the  foldier  and  the  failor,  the  pedant  and  the  mecha- 
nic, the  beggar  and  the  beau.  Habit  induces  each  of 
them  to  aflbciate  with  the  man  whofe  fentiments  are 
in  unifon  with  his  own.  Hence,  in  every  large  com- 
pany, where  there  is  not  that  happy  mixture  of  good- 
breeding  and  talents,  or  at  leafl  that  general  fympathy 
requifite  to  keep  up  a  general  converfation,  we  fee  the 
company  break  into  little  groups,  jufl  as  they  find  a 
fet  in  unifon  with  themfelves  j  and  politics,  bufinefs, 
double  entendre,  and  fcandal,  are  all  difcuffed  in  their 
own  little  committees. 

This  is  the  effedt  of  fympathy ;  but  the  fympathy 
itfelf  is  principally  the  effed  of  habit.  If  then  the 
conclufion  of  Plato,  with  refpedl  to  the  particular  ef- 
fects of  habit  in  each  perfon,  be  well  founded;  from 
the  fame  mode  of  reafoning  it  will  follow,  that  if 
habit  flrengthen  the  vice,  fo  as  to  make  it  a  future 
plague,  the  fame  habit  will  make  the  vicious  affociate 
with  fuch  Spirits  as  are  under  the  influence  of  like 
habits  with  themfelves.  We  fee  habit  produce  each 
of  thefe  effeds  here,  and  we  only  can  reafon  on  in- 
yifible  things,  from  their  analogy  to  our  daily  expe- 
rience. 

Having 


C     394    ] 

Having  thus  fhewn  (perhaps  more  at  large  than  was 
neceflary)  that  our  propenfity  to  aflbciate  with  fuch  as 
correfpond  with  us  in  fentiment,  originally  fprings 
from  habit,  and  that  it  has  the  fame  caufe  with  the 
inveteracy  of  the  vicious  aft'edions  themfelves,  we 
fhall  next  take  a  fummary  view  of  the  Platonic  Doc- 
trine, as  delivered  by  Scott. 


C     395    ] 


SUMMARY    VIEW,    &c. 


JVIaN  is  firft  confidered  by  him  as  a  rational,  a  re- 
ligious, and  a  focial  animal  5  and  his  duties  confe- 
quently  divide  into  the  Human,  the  Divine,  and  the 
Social  Virtues.  He  then  fhews  how  each  of  thefe 
virtues  contributes,  in  its  own  nature,  to  heavenly 
liappinefs  ;  and  how  each  of  the  oppofite  vices  tends 
to  make  the  criminal  eternally  miferable.  As  he  is  a 
rational  animal,  his  reafon  is  given  him  to  fubdue  his 
irafcible  and  concupifcible  afFedions,  and  fhew  him 
the  juft  value  of  things.  Then  he  begins  with  Pru- 
dence, a  virtue  which  directs  us  to  the  worthieft  ends, 
and  teaches  us  to  employ  the  bell  means.  This  is  the 
principle  which  allies  us  to  Angels ;  and  our  Appe- 
tites, therefore,  being  meant  to  be  fubje^l  to  our 
Wills,  and  our  Wills  to  Reafon,  when  this  order  is 
reverfed,  the  mind  muft  feel  that  fort  of  anguifh,  or 
uneafmefs,  which  a  body  does  which  is  out  of  joint ; 
but  Prudence  mull  be  Happinefs,  becaufe  it  is  a  con- 
tinual 


C   396  3 

tinual  exerclfe  of  Reafon,  the  nobleft  faculty  we  arc 
poflefled  of:  "  For  we,  (fays  he,)  being  finite  be- 
ings,  and  of  a  mixed  nature,  cannot  adt  vigoroufly  in 
two  lines  of  adion  at  once.  If  we  exercife  only  our 
animal  faculties,  our  rational  will  decay,  and  ufe  and 
exercife  will  not  oiily  improve  and  ftrengthen  our 
reafon,  but  make  its  exercife  delightful.  It  will  em- 
power it  to  regulate  all  our  actions,  and  our  eternal 
ftate  of  happinefs  will  commence  even  here.  The 
enjoyment  of  the  heavenly  ftate,  is  nothing  but  an  ex- 
ertion of  our  rational  faculties  in  their  full  freedom, 
difentangled  from  the  fnares  of  all  unreafonable  af. 
fedions.  Our  underftanding  will  be  employed  in  the 
contemplation  of  truth,  and  our  will  devoted  to  the 
love  of  abfolute  perfection. 

''  But  when  our  Reafon  is  laid  afide,  and  things 
are  prized  above  their  intrinfic  value,  our  difappoint- 
ment  is  proportioned  to  our  expectations ;  and  our 
expectation  not  being  guided  by  Reafon,  will  always 
go  along  with  our  enjoyments,  and  always  enfure  dif- 
appointment.  In  the  mean  time,  thefe  things  are  fleet- 
ing from  us  ;  we  leave  the  world,  and  carry  our  irra- 
tional defires  along  with  us,  fublimed  to  virulence  by 
long  habit.  Then  every  luft,  feparated  from  its  ob- 
jeft,  converts  into  an  hopelefs  and  outrageous  defire, 
a  defire  exalted  to  frenzy  by  defpair  j  and  the  mind, 
pre-engaged  to  fenfual  delights  alone,  cannot  direct  its 
attention  to  nobler  objedts.  Such  is  the  force  of  ha- 
bit." The  virtue  he  recommends  in  oppofition  to 
this,  is  Moderation ;  or  placing  a  due  value  on  tem- 
poral objects :  i.  e,  fuch  a  value  as  they  deferve,  and 

as 


t    397    ] 

as  will  not  Interfere  with  our  duty.  To  enforce  this 
further,  he  obferves,  that  we  underftand  by  our  af- 
feftions,  that  they  change  the  hue  of  all  objefts,  and 
that  fuch  fpirits,  immerfed  in  the  pleafures  of  fenfe, 
and  habituated  to  them  only,  fhould  relifh  any  thing 
higher,  he  thinks  impoffible. 

Next,  he  treats  of  Fortitude,  which,  by  his  defini- 
tion, is  the  virtue  that  keeps  our  irafcibie  affedtions  in 
due  bounds,  and  does  not  permit  them  to  exceed  thofe 
evils  or  dangers  which  we  feek  to  repel,  or  avoid. — Ii^ 
this  cafe.  Fortitude  not  only  comprehends  courage,  as 
oppofed  to  fear  ;  but  gentlenefs,  as  oppofed  to  fierce- 
licfs ;  fufferance,  as  oppofed  to  impatience ;  content- 
cdnefs,  as  oppofed  to  envy  ;  and  meeknefs,  as  op- 
pofed to  revenge  :  all  which  are  the  paffions  of  weak 
and  pufillanimous  minds,  fo  foftened  with  bafenefs  and 
cowardice,  that  they  are  not  able  to  withftand  the 
ilighteft  imprellions  of  danger  or  injury,  the  flighteft 
crofs  accident  j  the  moft  cafual  affront  is  painful  to 
their  morbid  and  irritable  apprehenfions,  what  would 
only  amufe  a  mind  in  proper  health.  Their  courage, 
he  fays,  is  the  mere  ferment  of  animal  nature ;  but 
true  fortitude  confifls  in  that  power  over  the  irafcibie 
affections,  which  prevents  us  from  being  timorous  in 
danger,  or  envious  in  want ;  impatient  in  fuffering,  or 
angry  at  contempt  j  or  malicious  and  revengeful  un- 
der injuries  and  provocation.  Then  he  illuflrates  the 
cffefts  of  thofe  untoward  accidents  upon  a  mind  duly 
tempered  with  Fortitude,  by  a  very  fmgular  compa- 
vifon  of  the  pattering  of  hail  on  the  tiles  of  a  mufic- 
houfe,  which  does  not  in  the  lead  difturb  the  harmony 

within. 


C   398   ] 

within. — While  it  is  in  the  power  of  thofe  accidents  to 
difturb  our  paflions,  he  fays,  "  We  are  tenants  at  will 
to  them  for  all  the  little  peace  we  enjoy,  and  our  hap- 
pinefs  and  mifery  muft  entirely  depend  upon  them  as 
they  are  good  or  bad.'* 

"  Thus  (he  fays)  are  we  tofled  about  while  here^ 
like  fliips  without  rudder  or  compafs.  All  thefe  paf- 
lions, which  fall  under  the  government  of  Fortitude, 
are  in  their  exceffes  terrible,  and,  like  young  vipers, 
gnaw  the  womb  that  breeds  them.  The  intervention 
of  other  enjoyments,  prevents  our  feeling  the  full  ef- 
fects of  thefe  palTions  here.  Immerfed  as  we  are  in 
grofs  terreftrial  vehicles,  our  feelings  cannot  be  fo  ex- 
quifite,  nor  confequently  our  pafTions  fo  violent,  as 
they  doubtlefs  will  be,  when  we  are  flripped  into 
naked  fpirits  ;  and  if  we  go  into  the  other  world  with 
thefe  paflions  unmortified  in  us,  they  will  not  only  be 
far  more  violent  than  now,  but  our  perceptions  of 
them  will  be  pure  and  unalloyed  by  any  intermixture 
of  enjoyment  J  and  if  fo,  what  exquifite  torments  muft 
they  prove,  when  hate  and  envy,  malice  and  revenge, 
{hall  be  altogether  like  fo  many  vultures  preying  upon 
our  hearts,  and  our  minds  fhall  be  continually  goaded 
with  all  the  furious  thoughts  that  thefe  outrageous 
paflions  can  fuggeft  to  us !  When,  with  the  meagre 
eyes  of  envy,  we  ftiall  look  up  to  thofe  regions  of  un- 
hoped felicity ;  when  our  impatience  fliall  be  height- 
ened, by  a  fenfe  of  our  follies,  to  a  diabolical  fury,  fub- 
limed  with  an  infatiable  defire  of  revenge  upon  all 
that  have  contributed  to  our  ruin,  and  an  inveterate 
malice  againft  all  we  converfe  with,  what  a  Hell  muft^ 

we 


r    399    3 

we  be  to  ourfelves ! — The  external  punifhments  of 
Devils  are  undoubtedly  very  fevere,  but  wrath  and 
envy,  malice  and  revenge,  mufl  be  much  more  fo; 
they  are  both  the  nature  and  the  plague  of  Devils ; 
they  are  the  creatures  of  thofe  curfed  affedions,  as  it 
was  they  which  changed  them  from  Angels  into  Fiends, 
If,  then,  thofe  affedions  had  fuch  an  horrible  power  of 
tranfmutation,  as  to  metamorphofe  Angels  into  De- 
mons ;  how  can  we  ever  expefl;  to  be  happy,  fo  long 
as  we  harbour  and  indulge  them  ?" 

"  To  prevent  this  impediment  to  our  happinefs,  is 
the  end  of  thofe  evangelical  precepts,  of  putting  away 
bitternefs  and  wrath,  of  being  children  in  malice,  and 
cultivating  the  fruits  of  the  fpirit ;  fuch  as  peace,  long- 
fuffering,  gentlenefs,  and  meeknefs ;  which  are  no- 
thing elfe  but  the  virtue  of  Fortitude,  exerting  itfelf  on 
our  different  irafcible  aifedions." 

"  Right  reafon  tells  us,  that  our  irafcible  affedions 
add  to  the  evils  which  we  fear  or  fuffer ;  and  the  ex- 
crcife  of  Fortitude  is,  therefore,  an  addition  to  our  hap- 
pinefs here,  and  it  alfo  tends  to  kill  the  feeds  of  mi- 
fery  hereafter." 

Next,  he  confiders  the  virtue  of  Temperance,  and 
expatiates  on  the  do£trine  of  the  foul's  contrading  a 
relifh  for  fenfual  pleafure,  which,  where  the  objecl  is 
removed,  mull  be  a  fource  of  torment ; — ^but  this  is 
partly  a  repetition  of  the  foregoing  dodrine  *. 

He  next  explains  the  virtue  of  Humility,  or  think* 
ing  properly  of  ourfelves  j  (hewing  that  pride  is  the 

*  Sec  Plato  Phxd.  Clem.  Alex.  P»dag.  lib.  ii,  cap.  i. 

root 


C  400  ] 

toot  of  envy,  that  envy  begets  malice,  and  malice  ml- 
fery.  Then  he  prefcribes  the  contemplation  of  our 
errors  and  indifcretions,  our  irregularities  of  temper, 
our  defe£ts  in  moral  virtue,  and  deviations  from  right, 
as  the  beft  means  of  teaching  us  Humility;  and,  above 
all,  a  contemplation  of  the  attributes  of  the  Deity,  and 
our  littlenefs,  compared  with  his  favours  to  us. 

The  immediate  effedis  of  the  above-mentioned  vir- 
tues are  privations  of  pain  and  reft ;  but  when  thefc 
impediments  are  removed,  the  active  nature  of  the 
mind  will  impel  it  to  more  congenial  employments ; 
that  is,  to  the  divine  virtues  belonging  to  man,  as  a 
reafonable  creature,  of  which  he  treats  next. 

I.  The  contemplation  of  the  Divinity,  the  moft  wor- 
thy object  of  a  rational  being,  whofe  moft  natural  em- 
ployment is  the  fearch  of  truth.— II.  The  exercife  of 
devotion. — III.  Imitation  of  the  Divine  nature  in  its 
moral  attributes ;  and  as  from  the  contemplation  of 
his  own  nature  his  felf-complacency  muft  proceed,  fo 
muft  our  virtues  be  the  fource  of  our  felf-fatisfa£tion, 
or  our  vices  of  mifery. — IV.  Reliance  on  him ;  our 
Heaven  muft  be,  to  be  direfted  by  him  in  our  choices, 
to  have  our  wills  conformable  to  his ;  and  our  Hell, 
to  be  fet  adrift  by  him,  and  left  involved  in  the  tem- 
peft  of  our  own  defires. 

He  concludes  with  a  view  of  the  focial  virtues,  and 
after  fome  obfervations  on  the  nature  of  men,  and  the 
duties  of  fociety,  in  recommending  benevolence,  he 
obferves,  "  That  fociety  puts  us  within  each  other's 
reach  ;  and,  by  that  means,  if  we  are  enemies,  renders 
us  more  dangerous  to  each  other,  like  two  armies, 

which, 


C   401    ] 

which,  at  diftance,  engage  only  with  miffile  weapons, 
and  do  not  havock  and  butcher  each  other  till  they 
come  to  clofe  engagement."  Such  are  the  efFeds  of 
hatred  and  malice  in  this  world,  fo  as  often  to  render 
the  mofl  difmal  folitude  preferable  to  fociety  ;  but  the 
effedts  of  thefe  unfociable  paffions  mufl  be  much  more 
horrible  in  the  other  world,  if  they  are  not  mortified 
'  here ;  for  whenever  the  fouls  of  men  leave  their  bo- 
dies, they  doubtlefs  aflbciate  with  fpirits  like  them- 
felves !  "  they  flock  to  birds  of  their  own  feather," 
and  comfort  themfelves  with  fuch  feparate  fpirits  as 
are  of  their  own  genius  and  temper :  For,  befides 
that  bad  fpirits  are  by  the  laws  of  the  invifible  world 
incorporated  into  one  nation,  fimilitude  of  difpofition 
is  an  attradion  to  aiTociation,  malice  naturalizes  men 
for  the  kingdom  of  darknefs,  and  difqualifies  them 
for  the  fociety  of  the  blelTed,  and  urges  them  to  that 
infernal  fociety  of  fpirits  like  themfelves.  But,  bet- 
ter were  eternal  folitude  in  the  moll  defolated  region 
of  infinite  fpace,  better  were  the  eternal  prefiure  of 
defpair,  the  never-dying  corrofions  of  envy,  and  the 
ftings  of  a  confcience  brooding  over  its  eternal  wounds, 
than  the  inceflant  and  horrible  vexation  of  fuch  a  ma- 
lignant confraternity !  for,  though  we,  who  are  only 
fpedators  of  corporeal  agency,  cannot  fee  how  fpirits 
ad:  upon  each  other,  yet  there  is  no  doubt  but  the 
plagues  inflided  by  fpirits  upon  fpirits,  are  as  imme- 
diate as  thofe  inflided  by  body  upon  body  *,  and  fup- 

*  Even  here  we  fee  the  eye  can  give  pleafure  or  pain  by  imper- 
ceptible means : — A  fmile  cheers  the  beholder,  and  a  frown  evi- 
dently hurts  him. 

Vol..  I.  D  d  pofing 


C   402    ] 

pofing  that  thefe  can  mutually  aft  upon  each  other, 
there  is  no  doubt  but  they  can  communicate  either 
pain  or  joy  to  each  other  in  proportion  to  their  power. 
What  then  can  be  expeded  from  a  company  of  mali- 
cious fpirits  herding  together,  but  a  reciprocation  of 
revenge,  mifery,  and  torment  I — ^Their  mod  exquifite 
enjoyments  here,  have  rifen  from  the  exertions  of 
fpite  and  malice ;  and  the  fhadowy  folace  of  their 
torments  below,  muft  arife  from  the  fame  direful  gra- 
tification of  mutual  and  implacable  revenge. 

Here  the  fubjed:  of  this  eternal  quarrel  is  laid, "  when 
all  who,  by  evil  counfels,  wicked  infmuations,  or  perni- 
cious examples,  contributed  to  each  other's  ruin, 
come  to  meet;  when  their  mutual  mifery  is  fubUmed 
by  an  infatiable  defire  of  vengeance ;  Heavens !  what 
a  tremendous  fituation !  how  all  their  aggregate  powers 
of  mifchief  will  be  exerted  in  one  relentlefs  effort  of 
mutual  vengeance  r*  This  one  would  think  is  mifery 
enough;  but  befidcs  this,  our  rchgion  teaches  us  to  be- 
lieve, "  that  they  fhall  be  expofed  to  all  the  dreadful  in- 
flidions  of  the  firft  apoftates  from  Heaven;  fpirits, 
who  even  now,  when  let  loofe  upon  us,  can  unfold 
fuch  fcenes  of  horror  to  our  affrighted  fancy,  as  oft* 
to  drive  us  to  madnefs,  defpair,  and  fuicide:  What 
then  muft  be  the  confequence  when  we  are  wholly 
abandoned  to  them,  and  left  the  eternal  victims  of  their 
unfated  malice!  with  what  an  hellifli  rage  will  they  fly 
upon  our  guilty  and  timorous  fouls,  where  there  is  fo 
much  fuel  for  their  injeded  fparks  of  horror  to  take 
fire  on ! — As  the  indulgence  of  rancour  and  malice 
naturally  drives   us   to   fuch   malignant  fociety" — to 

I  guard 


C   403   J 

guard  agalufl:  this,  in  every  page  of  the  gofpel  the 
duty  of  love  and  mutual  charity  is  inculcated  with  the 
moft  earned  repetition. 

He  next  expatiates  on  the  virtue  of  Juftice,  and  in 
(hewing  what  will  be  the  confequence  hereafter  of  in- 
dulging an  unrighteous  temper.  He  obferves,  "  that  the 
moft  barbarous  and  wicked  focieties  here,  have  fome 
remains  of  juftice  and  honour  among  them,  fome 
fparks  of  confcience,  which  muft  make  a  great  differ- 
ence between  them,  and  the  fociety  of  fuch  fpirits  as 
thofe,  who  were  habituated  to  afts  of  injuftice,  or 
fraud,  muft  naturally  feek  in  the  other  world.  Their 
defpair  of  ever  being  reconciled  to  God,  and  their  in- 
veterate malice  againft  him,  and  every  thing  good, 
muft  erafe  every  remaining  trace  of  goodnefs  out  of 
their  minds,  and  their  whole  converfation  can  be  no- 
thing elfe  than  an  intercourfe  of  oppreffion,  treachery, 
and  violence.  The  Devil  is  defcribed  as  the  father  of 
lies,  and,  regis  ad  exemplum^  all  the  miferable  vaflals 
of  his  dark  kingdom  do  all  imitate  his  example,  and 
tread  in  his  footfteps.  Then,  gracious  Heaven !  what 
woeful  fociety  muft  that  be !  where  all  truft  and  con- 
fidence is  baniftied,  and  eveiy  one  ftands  upon  his 
guard,  tortured  with  eternal  vigilance  of  furrounding 
mifchiefs !  where  all  their  employment  is  diaboHcal 
fraud  and  circumvention,  and  their  whole  ftudy  to  do 
and  retaliate  injuries  1'* 

To  prevent  the  effeds  of  this  dangerous  fpirit  when  in- 
dulged, the  Scripture  recommends  not  only  righteoufnefs 
in  general,  but  truth,  plainnefs,  opennefs,  and  candour, 
as  far  as  the  innate  treachery  of  the  world  will  admit, 

D  d  2  The 


[     404     ] 

The  confequence  of  indulging  a  factious  or  rebel- 
lious fpirit  is  next  defcribed :  where,  being  chained  to- 
gether by  an  adamantine  fate,  they  confent,  in  this, 
and  in  this  alone,  to  oppofe  all  good  defigns,  and  do 
the  moft  mifchief  they  are  able  :  fo  that  their  fociety 
is  like  the  monfler  Scylla,  whom  the  Poets  fpeak  of, 
whofe  inferior  parts  were  a  company  of  dogs  who  were 
continually  fnarling  and  quarrelling  among  themfelves, 
and  yet  were  infeparable  from  each  other,  as  being  all 

parts  of  the  fame  fubftance. With  a  forefight  of 

thefe  wretched  confequences  of  difunion,  the  gofpcl 

precept  is  "  to  follow  good-will  towards  all  men.*' 

Then,  after  enlarging  on  the  concord  of  the  faints  above, 
he  infifts  on  the  neceffity  of  "  purging  our  minds  of 
thofe  froward  and  contentious  humours,  if  we  would 
wifli  to  be  fit  companions  of  their  blefied  fociety." 

With  refpefl:  to  the  virtues  of  obedience  to  fuperiors, 
and  condefcenfion  and  gentlenefs  to  inferiors,  and  the 
confequences  of  their  oppofite  vices,  he  gives  a  dread- 
ful picture  of  thofe  tyrannical  rulers,,  and  ungovernable 
fubjefts,  that  the  two  parties  will  be  divided  into  in 
the  other  world,  where  "  rebels  will  naturally  confort 
with  rebels,  and  tyrants  with  tyrants  ;  where  all  the 
fuperiors  are  fierce  and  tyrannical,  and  all  the  inferiors 
per\'erfe  and  ftubbora ;  where  the  rulers  are  a  com- 
pany of  Demons,  that  impofe  nothing  but  grievances 
and  plagues,  and  thofe  that  obey  are  a  fet  of  furly  and 
untradable  ilaves.  that  fubmit  to  nothing  but  what 
they  are  compelled  to  by  grievances  and  plagues-— 
lalhed  into  unfufferable  obedience,  and  forced  by  one 

torment  to  fubmit  to  another." 

In 


C     405     3 

In  his  recommendation  of  the  oppofite  virtues,  there 
are  fome  traits  of  the  doctrine  of  paffive  obedience, 
which,  in  the  days  of  Scot,  was  often  a  theme  of  elo- 
quence from  the  pulpit.  He  concludes  the  chapter 
with  a  detail  of  motives  for  the  practice  of  the  heavenly- 
virtues,  from  their  fuitablenefs  to  the  chrillian  charac- 
ter, and  remarks  what  an  idea  the  vices  of  a  chriftian 
muft  give  a  heathen  of  our  religion,  from  the  inftance 
of  the  Indian,  who,  when  he  was  told  the  cruel 
Spaniards  went  to  Heaven,  rather  chofe  the  darkeft 
Hell  than  fuch  diabolical  company.  The  next  motive 
he  urges  are,  the  honour  of  following  the  example, 
and  treading  in  the  fteps  of  the  moft  exalted  nature, 
and  the  freedom  we  acquire  by  a  life  of  virtue ;  for 
"  in  a  ftate  of  fm  the  free  courfe  of  reafon  is  interrupt'* 
ed  by  vice,  and  the  free  courfe  of  vice  is  reflrained,  in 
fome  refped,  by  reafon,  even  in  the  mofl  abandoned; 
and  wherever  we  go  we  walk  like  prifoners,  clogged 

by  the  fliackles  of  lli ame  and  fear." In  this  cafe 

we  muft  refolve  "  either  to  conquer  our  reafon,  or  our 
lufh ;  if  we  conquer  the  former,  we  acquire  a  liberty 
indeed,  the  liberty  of  Demons  and  of  brutes  j  if  we 
fubdue  the  latter,  we  acquire  the  freedom  of  men,  and 
of  angels;  and  we  (hall  move  without  check  or  con- 
finement in  a  free  and  noble  fphere,  for  v/e  fliall  be 
pleafed  with  what  is  wife  and  fit,  and  good  without 
any  curb  or  reftraint,  and  be  all  life,  all  fpirit,  all  wing, 
in  the  difcharge  of  our  duty." 

In  expatiating  on  the  pleafures  of  a  virtuous  life,  he 
obferves,  "  that  whereas  fenfual  enjoyments  are  fliort 
and  tranfient,  the  heaven  of  a  rational  creature  confifts 

in 


[     AoG    ] 

in  the  moft  intenfe  and  vigorous  exercifes  of  its  ra- 
tional faculties,  on  the  mofl  fuitable  and  convenient 
objc£ls. 

*'  As  in  every  ad  of  every  virtue  there  is  an  imper- 
fe6l  union  of  the  foul  with  God,  there  muft  alfo  be 
fome  degree  of  the  pleafure  of  Heaven  in  the  exercife  of 
every  one  of  them ;  and  when  by  habit  we  have  made 
the  exercife  of  thofe  virtues  not  only  eafy  but  delight- 
ful, we  fhall  fmd  ourfelves  under  the  central  force  of 
Heaven,  mod  fweetly  drawn  along  by  the  powerful 
magnetifm  of  its  joy  and  pleafure,  and  every  a6l  of 
celeftial  virtue  will  anticipate  celeftial  happinefs. 
Wherefore,  as  we  love  pleafure,  which  is  the  great  in- 
\itation  to  adion,  let  us  be  perfuaded,  once  for  all, 
to  make  a  thorough  experiment  of  the  heavenly  life.' 

The  fifth  motive  he  infifls  on  is,  the  repofe  attend- 
ing a  virtuous  life  ;  where  he  reprefents  vice  as  a  dif- 
lo cation  of  our  mental  faculties,  a  force  put  upon  our 
natural  deflination,  a  difcord  in  the  original  harmony 
of  our  nature,  which  he  illuflrates  by  the  follovtdng 
fimile  :  "  If  a  mufical  inftrument  were  a  living  thing, 
it  would  be  fenfible  that  harmony  is  its  proper  ftate,, 
and  would  abhor  difcord  and  diffonancy,  as  a  thing 
preternatural  to  it ;  fo,  were  our  reafon  alive  within 
us,  our  fouls,  which  were  made  unifons  with  the 
Deity,  would  be  exquifitely  fenfible  of  thofe  divine 
virtues  wherein  its  confonancy  confifts,  as  of  that 
which  was  its  proper  ftate  and  native  complexion ;  for 
all  her  jarring  faculties  being  tuned  to  the  mufical  laws 
of  reafon,  there  would  be  a  perfeft  harmony  in  her 
nature.** 

The 


[    407     ] 

The  laft  motive  he  mentions  is  the  neceflity  of  a 
virtuous  life  to  our  enjoyment  of  heavenly  happinefs. 
— "  Happinefs,"  fays  he,  "  is  a  relative  thing,  and  in 
its  very  nature  implies  a  mutual  correfpondence  be- 
tween the  objects  of  our  happinefs,  and  the  faculties 
that  enjoy  them.  If  the  objeds  of  heavenly  happinefs 
be  not  fuited  to  our  faculties  by  habitual  contempla- 
tion, or  habitual  exercife,  they  cannot  be  objefts  of 
happinefs  to  us/' 

He  goes  even  fo  far  as  to  fay,  "  that  fhould  the 
Deity  inflid  on  vicious  perfons  no  pofitive  punifhment, 
they  muft  from  habitual  depravation  be  for  ever  mifer- 
able ;  and  what  would  a  pardon  fignify  to  a  malefac- 
tor who  is  dying  of  the  ftone  or  ftrangury  ?  juft  as 
little  would  an  abfolution  from  punifhment  fignify  to  a 
depraved  foul  while  it  is  fubject  to  a  difeafe  that  preys 
upon  its  vitals.  Heaven  is  the  centre  of  all  virtue,  to 
which  it  naturally  tends  ;  Hell  is  the  centre  of  all  vice, 
to  which  it  is  carried  by  an  accelerated  motion :  yet  it 
is  not  fo  much  the  place  as  the  flate  of  mind  that 
makes  the  difference;  and  would  vice  attempt  to  climb 
to  Heaven,  it  would  be  beat  back  by  the  dreadful 
lightnings  of  its  glory.'* 

He  concludes  with  a  fpirited  apoftrophe  to  fuch  as 
think  that  vice  and  happinefs  are  compatible :  "  What 
would  fuch  as  you  do  in  Heaven  ? — There  are  no 
wanton  amours  among  thofe  heavenly  lovers,  no  rivers 
of  wine  among  their  rivers  of  pleafure  to  gratify  your 
fenfuality,  no  parafites  to  flatter  your  pride,  no  miferies 
to  feed  your  envy,  no  mifchiefs  to  tickle  your  revenge 

— nothing 


C   408    3 

— nothing  but  chiifle  and  divine,  pure  and  rational  en- 
joyments." 

I  fhall  only  make  one  obfervation  on  the  foregoing 
fyflem,  that  if  it  be  well  founded,  it  precludes  all  thofe 
idle  declamations  on  the  abfurdity  of  lading  punifh- 
ments  for  temporal  crimes,  as  it  appears  from  this  re- 
prefentation  that  the  punifliment  arifes  in  a  great  de- 
gree from  the  acquired  habit  which  mufl  laft  at  leaft 
as  long  as  the  exiftence  of  the  criminal. 


END    OF    THE    FIRST    VOLUME. 


Printed  by  A.  Strahan, 
New-Sireet  Square. 


riV 


AUG  1  7  1988 


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